


To Second Chances I: The Lost World

by CommanderRak



Series: To Second Chances [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Darth Vader Needs a Hug, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suitless Darth Vader, Time Travel Fix-It, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Weird Plot Shit, Witchcraft, sort of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRak/pseuds/CommanderRak
Summary: Peace has returned in the galaxy, at a terrible price.The newly crowned Emperor Vader, unable to process the events and convinced he can correct the mistakes of his past, travels to a secret Imperial jail on Byss, seeking help on his desperate quest for redemption.
Relationships: Darth Vader & Darth Plagueis, Darth Vader/Original Female Character(s), Dooku & Darth Vader, Dooku (Star Wars) & Original Female Character(s), Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Padme Amidala / Anakin Skywalker (past)
Series: To Second Chances [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169090
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	1. A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to post at least once a week :)  
> I hope you'll enjoy it!

# To Second Chances

## The Lost World

### Chapter 1: A new hope

  
  
“We need to plot,” she said severely.  
  
He inclined his mask towards her, attentive. She was taking this entire situation fairly well, all things considered. Fairly better than him, at least.  
  
There was an air of elegance in her poise, something sharp about the way her green eyes were quietly observing their surroundings. He wasn't sure if he liked it. Not yet. But he could not deny the pang of intrigue that seized him when he thought of her and of the threatening powers that supposedly warranted her captivity.  
  
He had found her earlier that day, hidden like a coveted princess in a well-protected Imperial jail on Byss. A jail way too well protected for the random rebels and occasional traitors that were supposed to be kept there. She was a fail-safe, a hidden treasure, and Palpatine's insurance that if all of his foresight and contingency plans failed him, nothing would truly be lost.  
  
She was not young and captivity had not spared her, but he could guess that she had been extremely pretty in her younger years. There was something attractive about her high cheekbones, pointy chin and strict, straight nose, something years in a tiny cell being regularly denied access to food, care and hygiene had not managed to tone down completely.  
His eyes lingered on the lightning-shaped scars that littered her gaunt skin and he felt the leather of his glove creak under the sudden pressure of his artificial hand. Sidious had not been a gentle jailer to her either. Unsurprising.  
  
“Vader, do you really want to do this?” she pursued, hesitation coating her words.  
  
He felt himself nod, neck muscles strained, throat tightened by an efflux of emotion that he would have carefully concealed even a few days ago. They seemed to congregate around them, weighing heavily on the room's atmosphere, and he could feel his respirator struggle to bring air to his damaged lungs even more than usual.  
  
“They deserve it,” Vader rasped, feeling familiar guilt spread through his veins.  
“It will be tough,” she replied.  
“There is nothing left for me, here,” he toned, unable to quiet his modulator.   
She flinched but didn't back down. “You could join the Force,” she whispered, and he could feel a faint trace of desire there.  
  
Was she considering ending her own life?  
The newly crowned Emperor closed his eyes for a brief moment. Yes, he had thought about that too. The idea had tormented him in all of his attempts to meditate, but as soon as he had seen her file, it was discarded, a dark cloud on a bright, sunny day. What she could offer was too tempting, too sweet not to pursue.  
  
“I will not give up if there is a chance to right my wrongs,” Vader said tersely, his prosthetic fingers digging in his left thigh.  
“You want to be the hero?” she asked, eyes lost in thoughts.   
He clenched his fist, gripping the weak, scarred flesh of his leg, and replied, “I'm done being the coward.”  
  
He was no hero. Luke had been the hero. Luke, so small, so blond, so pure. His entire body tensed in agony when he remembered how his son had pushed Palpatine into the core of the second Death Star to save Vader from a certain death, how the Sith's lightning had pierced his young body, leaving him lifeless.  
  
A hero.  
  
He had no other wish than to join him in death when he realized his son was gone, but he could not, he would not. He had to get them both out of the Death Star before it exploded, he had to bring the body to his son's Rebel friends, to his sister Leia for a proper funeral.  
  
Leia.  
  
He had been so blind, so, so blind. Anya looked at him for a moment, her piercing green eyes tearing his most intimate secrets apart. He expected her to mock him, to comment on his weaknesses, on his faults as he was sure the entire galaxy would do if given the occasion, but she simply sat there and stared at him for a while before she made her decision.  
  
“I'll do it,” she said, resolved, “but I reiterate, we need to plot. There will be no salvation if we are not careful.”  
He felt his anger rise, and snarled, “I don't need your help. My plans are clear!”  
“Are they?” Anya asked, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “I can only do this once, we have no other chances. If your plans fail, you will doom the entire galaxy. Again.”  
  
Vader wanted to choke her, to correct her impertinence with a dose of fear so great that she would never even think of speaking to him that way. He could not, he would not tolerate this disrespect! He was the Galactic Emperor, he was Darth Vader, and she would bow before his power!  
  
His eyes fell on the lightning scars on her skin again and his jaw clenched painfully around the mechanism of his respirator. He abstained. As condescending as she was, her value was inestimable.  
  
Reigning his temper in, Vader swallowed the meager amount of saliva he was still able to produce, tightened his fists, and spoke, “What do you have in mind?”  
  
Anya smiled, satisfied, and for a second the sharpness dimmed.  
  
  
  
\----  
  
  
Their plotting took a major part of the following days and included countless arguments on both personal and galactic matters.  
  
Anya knew that she was somewhat blunt, the lack of human contact had made her less aware of social niceties, and to be fair, her new ally was not much better than her at interacting civilly. Still, after a tense period of adaptation, they managed to find some common ground and make consistent progress.  
  
They would have to go back before she was imprisoned, of course. She could only go back in her own body, and it would be dooming to do so while already in Palpatine's hands. Vader would need a functioning body, annoying but doable if she paid the price for it, and she would need to conserve the political power she was stripped off the first time.  
However, they could only go back to a time when she was alive, and to keep the bad acting at a minimum, her parents needed to be both dead.  
It was inconvenient, despite their flaws she still loved her family and having them dead and unable to protect her from her uncle's ambitions was what ultimately led to her captivity. It would be much harder to escape his firm grasp without them, but that would be necessary.  
  
Perhaps she could work with him? Try to prevent the worse of his fall?  
  
When she spoke about it with Vader, she was met with a firm no. He loathed Yan Dooku, had no regrets over brutally decapitating the man and considered him a dangerous opponent. Dooku had been clever, well connected and always a step ahead of everyone else until his own master betrayed him. Trying to meddle into his life would only make them suspicious, and potentially attract unwanted attention from Sidious himself.  
  
So, no magical redemption in sight for her uncle. Too bad, he had been the one who trained her after all when his sister had confessed her Force Sensitivity to him, shortly after their obtuse father's death at his hands.  
She had fond memories of him fussing over her after a hard session, making her warm cups of tea and covering her with his cloak while she recovered from his diligent training. He had been a thorough master, kind and firm, teaching her patiently about the Force as soon as he had a moment. It provided a much appreciated break from her mandatory political studies and numerous dry classes. At the time, he was the touch of magic illuminating her days, an escape from her boring and lonely life, and she had wanted nothing more than to impress him.  
  
But Yan Dooku was always a complex man, and when he had realized the depth of her powers, nearly a decade after the beginning of her training, he was tempted. She trusted him, and he trusted his master. They both made a grave mistake.  
  
She was sure the body of her uncle was still warm when Sidious locked her up. He wasted no time in kidnapping her from the luxurious serennian citadel that she occupied at the time, leaving her cousin Adan as sole heir of the throne while she was put in a cold, dark cell in an anonymous spaceship. After that, it had been cells after cells, keeping her as close as he could especially during the beginnings of his time as the Emperor until he eventually grew bored and jailed her on Byss for her to die alone.  
  
Anya clenched her teeth, her brows tightened in a painful frown. They had their flaws, all of them, and dwelling on them would not make the past sweeter. She cast a look at her strange partner, Emperor Vader, sitting not far from her and deeply plunged in some datapad detailing the pre-Clone Wars timeline and main events.  
  
They had reached a tentative year, 34 BBY, two years before the death of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, a year before Yan Dooku realized his niece could manipulate time with the Force, five years after the strange decimation of her family at his hands. She would be 16 at that time, and still had a year to decide what to do with her life.  
The first time, excited at the idea of being a true, real Jedi, she had thrown everything away to follow her Master out of sheer naivete, giving up titles and leaving him as the only leader of Serenno in the galaxy.  
This time, she would use this year to abandon her Jedi dreams, find some plausible story for the appearance of Vader at her side and get enough hold over her Countess seat to be sent over as their Senate representative.  
  
At least that was the plan.  
  
Vader had a much harder task, having to come up with a completely new identity, but based on what she had seen these last few days, he didn't loathe the daunting work.  
He had settled for a name, Khan Vaner, and a planet, Talravin, a boring Core world she had vaguely heard about a long time ago. It was supposed to be some kind of inside Sith joke, something scandalous enough to keep their true secret safe if people came looking, but she had not been interested enough to ask for more details.  
Vader, or maybe she should call him Khan, now, was dedicated, that she could not deny. From what she extracted from his occasional ramblings the idea of getting revenge on Sidious for killing his baby was very dear to his heart and he clang to the idea of his own brand of redemption like the desperate man he was.  
  
Anakin Skywalker had been a hero of the Republic, Darth Vader the main enforcer of the Empire, and from what she could tell, Khan Vaner intended to put both of their accomplishments to shame by reshaping the entire galactic history to fit with his monumental plans.  
  
Sometimes he frightened her with his grandiose speeches and temper tantrums, but his undying enthusiasm was seriously starting to grow on her. She had forsaken her own hopes and dreams a long time ago, left shattered by her Master's betrayals and kept in despair by Sidious' cruel experiments, but she could not help but feel a bit of passion warm her heart when Vader was speaking.  
He was an inspiring leader, truly, the kind of man that could turn the tide of any battle in a few words despite the odds. The more time they spent together, the more she felt alive and brave enough to actually go through with their plans.  
  
She smiled softly behind her own datapad, careful not to get caught by the recovering Sith, and let the flame of her new hope grew a bit more.

  



	2. Far from home

  
  


### Chapter 2: Far from home

  
  


Vader first impression of his new reality was not the best. He felt a great amount of discomfort, if not outright agony bruising his flesh, and he was convinced his brain was going to explode in a few minutes, overwhelmed by the intense sensations piercing his new body.

He heard something move next to him and tried to open his eyes. Wrong idea. The light burnt as if he was staring directly into Tatooine's twin suns, and triggered a severe headache that did not improve his disorientation and overall suffering.

  
  


“Keep your eyes shut. Focus on my voice. It will get better in an instant,” someone said softly.

  
  


He recognized Anya's voice, a younger version of it, and slowly his memories came back. The removal of his suit, the circles of fresh blood and chalk, the sacrifice, the candles, the incantations and a weird sensation of going through hyperspace without a ship. It worked.

If Anya's calculations were correct, they should have arrived in 34 BBY, in Dooku's citadel on Serenno. All pain suddenly forgotten, he reached out in the Force, trying to seek out the current state of the galaxy and found the familiar emptiness he got so used to suddenly filled with flickering lights.

It worked! They did it!

Anya's signature light grayish presence was a lot darker than what he was used to, still affected by the very nature of their journey, but otherwise, she appeared unfazed, and he was jealous for a moment. How could she wield such power? Why did the Force chose her as the privileged owner of this gift when Vader could have done so much more, could have already corrected so much wrong if it had been him? Wasn't HE the Chosen One?

He got rid of his negative emotions in the Force, dismissing his petty greed with an ease he did not possess in the past. He had been blind, obtuse and stupid in so many ways, misusing the gigantic power gifted to him without any regard for the Force. Anya's abilities would have been wasted on him. The natural caution with which she handled the power, the reverence she had for the Force were her safeguard against hubris and self-destruction. He did not have such qualities.

Vader felt her hands hovering a few centimeters away from his torso and the Force started to sing. His pain was soon chased away by the young girl's soothing presence and he tentatively opened his eyes to peer at her satisfied face.

He had been right in his first assessment, she was very pretty, albeit in an aristocratic mean girl way. Her piercing green eyes were shining with a touch of exhaustion from using the Force so soon after their extenuating journey and her sharp features were highlighted by a sliver of sweat, but there was no denying she looked every bit like the icy blond countess she was supposed to be.

The former, or current? Sith saw a frown pinch her brows together and realized he had been staring for a humiliating amount of time. Frowning himself he set his eyes on himself, observing her diligent work.

He was wearing the same black robe she had draped him with after removing his suit, and the garment was loose enough to let him see a fair expense of milky golden skin and taut muscles. He had arms, and legs, and hair. In a brief moment of vanity, he thanked Anya mentally for restoring what he had known to be an appreciated masterpiece but the thought didn't linger. His body was a tool, an instrument he needed for his plan, and marveling at it will just make it too painful to sacrifice again.

Anya returned to him with a glass of water and a knowing smile, and he knew instantly that she was aware of his little prideful moment. Kriff! That damned mask of his had destroyed his Sabacc face, he needed to get a grip, and soon.

He swallowed his first sip of water and forgot everything.

It was the first time in 20 years that he drank more than a few sips without excruciating pain, and it felt amazing. His throat was parched, his mouth dry and the water soothed everything down and refreshed his tense body in the most exhilarating way. Anya sighed, amused by his obvious reaction, and took the glass back when he was finished.

  
  


“Do you want to try and stand up?” She said, turning away from the console she had put his empty glass on, “it might be a bit confusing at first.”

  
  


Vader nodded in her general direction, still marveling at the taste of water, and pushed his newly rejuvenated body into an awkward standing position, using his arms to stay upright. His legs did not feel weak, but she was right, it was definitely an unusual sensation. After a full minute, he felt ready to try walking and took a few hesitant steps around the bed, feeling his hips slowly realize they were connected to full fleshed functional legs again.

He hated the weakened state he was in, feeling like a toddler learning to walk again, but some part of him was delighted by the entire experience.

Once she was sure he was not going to collapse on her, Anya guided him to the refresher and told him to call her if he needed her support to go back to bed. He frowned, annoyed at the implications of her words, but his eyes found the full-length mirror and he was... distracted.

16 year old Anakin Skywalker was just out of the most ungraceful period of his short life, and it showed. He was all longs limbs and lean muscles and his cheeks still had a childish roundness that he remembered despising at the time. He moved a hand to touch his cleft chin and felt his throat clench. He looked like Luke, a lot more than he cared to remember when he met him at the time. How could he not have known, then? It was obvious, glaringly so now that he was confronted with the prime evidence.

Vader shook his head to get out of the sad trail of thoughts. He would need to alter his appearance, at least a bit. He could not look too much like Anakin. If they were to cross paths, someone would be at least intrigued by their level of similarity. Their eyes were different, Anakin's a shining blue, radiant and full of life, Vader a muddy gray with speckles of blue and yellow, remnants of his years serving the dark side. But eyes were not enough to differentiate them, he needed to change something a bit more obvious. For a moment Vader considered giving himself some sort of scar and then gave up. The thought of harming his new body troubled him more than he would care to admit, despite his earlier pledge to not give in to vanity. Maybe Anya could help?

Vader frowned at the thought. She already did a lot, and he knew, somewhat, that she had given up on more than she let on in order to send them both in the past. It would be unfair to ask more of her.

His scowl deepen. Since when did he care for such things as fairness? Was that a part of his “redemption”? Sure he did not want to kill his son, and sure enough his ties with Sidious were cut clean, but he was no Jedi, and frankly, he doubted he would ever be one again.

Still, the girl was good company, and his only ally in this past where he had no roots yet, it would be anticlimactic at best to antagonize her now. Should he ask, though?

He reflected on it during a quick shower, marveling again at his newly returned perception of the world, and decide to at least breach the subject. She was his ally, and this matter was a pressing one, considering that at this very moment on Tatooine lived a very young Anakin Skywalker, working for Watto and completely unaware of what life had in store for him.

The clothes she had left for him were simple, all clean lines and dark colors, and when he looked at himself again Anakin Skywalker had disappeared, replaced by a young and elegant warrior vaguely reminiscent of Dooku. He suppressed a shiver of displeasure and started to walk back to the room, trying to coordinate his new leg muscles into confident but slow steps. It was decent, at best, but at least he did not have to call Anya to help him, and that was a victory he could savor for at least a few moments.

  
  


“You look... adequate,” she droned.

  
  


He could see a faint blush dusting her cheeks, but her eyes glinted with as much steel as they had before. This was her body reacting, not her mind, and he chose not to address it. They were 16 again, and it was to be expected.

  
  


“I need to alter my looks,” he replied, “I can't resemble myself so much.”

“What do you have in mind?” Anya frowned, gaze inquisitive.

He squirmed, uncomfortable, and fully blamed his young body for his stupid reaction. “I was hoping you had a suggestion.”

“Are we talking about changing your hair color or surgery?” she asked, observing his face intently.

  
  


He shrugged. Both, neither. He didn't want to change, but he had to, he didn't care all that much about the specifics. Her eyes scanned his face again, neither cold nor warm, analytical. Clearly, she took this matter a lot more seriously than he did. Was she afraid of damaging her hard work?

She considered him for a moment, pensive, then seemed to come to a decision.

  
  


“The hair would be a good start, perhaps the nose?” she suggested, “it's easy to break, and it would make your face look very different.”

“Would you?”

“What?” she asked, confusion obvious on her face.

He gestured towards his nose and replied, “break it.”

Anya sighed, appearing everything but delighted at his proposal. “Not if I don't have to. Can you do it yourself?”

  
  


Vader wanted to shrug again and pinched his lips at the very teenage reaction. Younger body or not, he was still Darth Vader, and he had four decades behind him. He would not behave like a thrice-damned teenage boy!

Feeling the Force around him, inside him, singing with delight as his mind sought it out, turning it against himself. The air grew cold, the Force displeased at his intentions, but the power submitted to his will and soon enough he heard and felt his pretty nose bridge break.

The pain was sharp, but for someone like him, it was nothing. He felt his blood drip but did not allow himself to be distracted. Pinching his injured nose he twisted the broken bones and cartilage in a new shape and then asked the Force as nicely as he could to mend at least part of what she had just destroyed.

He looked around for a mirror but found none. Anya smirked and handed him a small towel she had apparently picked up during his mutilation.

  
  


“It's not bad. The tip is not that round anymore, the upper part is a bit more raised, and larger, and the lower part is slightly leaning right after a small crease.”

“Do I look different?” he grunted, annoyed at her amused tone.

“Different enough,” she replied coldly, “if we add the eye color and age difference you will look like Anakin's big brother, maybe.”

He hummed. “Do you know how to change the hair?”

“Dying it. It will require some maintenance though. There are implants, too, but that means at least some light surgery,” Anya told him, her elegant brow lifted in a silent question.

  
  


Vader sighed. Cosmetics. Not his thing, at all.

  
  


“We can look into it once we are on Talravin, I also know of some products to make you a bit taller. Since your current body is 16 it should still work,” she drawled, her posh serennian accent peaking through when she pronounced the planet's name.

“When are we leaving?” he yawned, his mind getting increasingly foggy with exhaustion.

Anya frowned, pensive, and answered, “I still have to work around some of the details, but we should be ready to leave in 2 days.”

“I will rest.”

  
  


She took it as the dismissal it was, nodded and went, leaving him in his new chambers. He retreated back to bed with a small frown, annoyed to be so tired after doing next to nothing, and let himself drop ungracefully on the obscenely soft covers.

They would have a lot to do to secure his identity and justify their connection, and they would be operating alone for a while, each on their own path. He groaned softly, burying himself under the warm duvet, and thought about his plans until sleep claimed him.

\----

Anya's first impression of Talravin was one of marvel. The planet, not unlike Serenno, was a pretty temperate world with forests, oceans, lakes and even some mountains. The resemblance ended there. Serenno was stiff and severe, the architecture gorgeous but mostly austere and the winters harsh on most of the surface. It was a planet of composed people, where efficiency was valued and money was a treasure to be invested wisely. Her homeworld had earned its recent place in the galaxy thanks to clever decisions and hard work, making it one of the only Outer Rim planets capable of making an impact. On Serenno there was only specific and small amounts of adequate time for pleasantries and enjoyments, and it reflected on its rigid and prideful inhabitants.

Talravin was different. The Core planet was gorgeous, all glamorous buildings and elegant gardens, fancy in a way that screamed of its wealth and rich history. From the exact moment they approached the atmosphere every talravinian had been pleasant to a fault and the relaxed air that they all seemed to harbor was a delightful change.

The little apartment her contact had purchased on her behalf for Khan Vaner seemed basked in the same easy warmth. There were plants at every window, warm fake wood on the grounds and beautiful cream paint on the walls. It had a main area with an open kitchen and a cozy living room with a large sofa and two plush armchairs, basked in beautiful natural light, a quaint bedroom decorated with earthy tones whose window showed a small park and an adequately sized refresher with running water and even more plants.

Vader seemed a bit out of place in the charming decor, reading through a datapad also provided by her contact with a now familiar scowl on his face. He was thinking.

They had four days together before they had to part ways. Anya was supposed to be there to conclude an interesting deal with the government of the planet, extending an offer of partnership that would grant Talravin with natural resources they started to lack and Serenno with gifted engineers and specialized pilots who could improve the productivity of the mining operations they were conducting on several moons and asteroids they owned in the Outer Rim.

The original 16 years old Anya had deemed the whole operation boring as kriff and had forced her uncle to send Hilda Malvern, the governor of Serenno's mining operations, in her stead. At the time the talravinians had been extremely offended by her rebuttal and the deal had been dismissed. Yan Dooku had resented her for a couple months for this failure, and she was keen on not repeating the same mistakes.

Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to bring Vader to his new supposed homeworld, which was why they had chosen this specific period to come back.

  
  


He interrupted her thoughts with his monotonous voice, startling her. “When is your meeting?”

“In two days,” Anya replied, “I will need to be at the palace tomorrow for a first informal diner, then they scheduled some sort of riding event in the countryside and we will have the meeting after lunch, according to the schedule they sent to my assistant.”

Vader nodded, disinterested, and she wondered why he even asked the question if he didn't care about her answer. “I have my entrance exam tomorrow afternoon.”

“I'll comm you after the diner, then,” she retorted, annoyance souring her tone, “do you already know what you want to do about the Jedi?”

“If my deductions are correct, they should be well integrated within the Academy, they will come to me,” he said dully, either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge her rising temper.

Anya frowned and concluded she probably took it all too personally. “Good.”

  
  


He resumed his readings and she settled on the plush sofa opposite to the comfortable armchair he had claimed as his own. She grabbed her datapad from the coffee table and sipped on the tea she brewed earlier before reviewing the documents her assistant Fod had provided her. Details on their mining sites, names of notorious talravinians scientists involved in related fields, and estimated budgets and potentials revenues.

Fod was already at the palace, making sure her rooms were ready and collecting information on their hosts. Anya had politely declined to join them so soon and told them she wanted to play tourist for part of her stay as she had never been in Talravin before. They were apparently pleased by her curiosity or indulged her because she was only 16. In any case, arrangements were made and Fod had left her at the landing pad with a tight smile and a warning to not cause any trouble that could reflect badly on Serenno's reputation. Had she been such a troubled child before, for her to warrant such worry?

After his little speech, Anya had retrieved an annoyed Vader from his hiding spot on her ship and they had rented a beautiful speeder he was gazing longingly at since the second they had arrived at the spaceport's renting area to travel to the apartment.

She frowned at an article on the mineral composition of Cery Delta 5, one of their less exploited moon. Coaxium and lithoporoite. Unstable and too hard to exploit for their current mining ships, the ungrateful rock was barely touched as of yet. Dangerous but rewarding. This was exactly the type of bait she could dangle in front of the talravinians, their expertise and technologies could turn this mess into some rewarding operation pretty quickly. Fertile grounds for a fertile alliance.

She highlighted the article, making sure she would not forget it for the negotiations, then rose to stretch her legs and brew another batch of tea.

Vader put his own cup on the coffee table to be filled, still absorbed in what seemed to be talravinian's flight protocols. Right. His test. She gave him a quick refill and then resumed her previous activities, only to find herself distracted.

Sighing, she remembered her current brain belonged to a teenager and that the strenuous binge of information she was inflicting on it since they came back was most unwanted. Disturbingly, she felt the sudden need to watch some crappy Holodrama. Glancing at her reading companion to evaluate his current disposition, she saw his right leg twitching. He was bored too, great. The probability that he was willing to engage in the activity she had in mind being extremely low, she hesitated for a minute before voicing her grief.

  
  


“Do you mind if I turn on the HoloTV?” she asked, voice a lot sweeter than earlier.

“Why?” he replied harshly, barely detaching his gaze from his datapad, jaw clenched.

She sighed, “I can't focus anymore, my brain needs a reprieve.”

“But the HoloTV?” he mocked.

  
  


His disdain was clear, and she felt her cheeks warm with a tiny sliver of shame. So what if she liked teenage shows? Unlike him, she hadn't been blessed with an endless amount of fun and palpitating adventures, being in captivity usually edged between terrifying and morbidly boring but none of it had been fun or palpitating. Besides, she liked plugging her brain off and just think about the cheesy plot and easy romance they usually revolved around.

  
  


Defensive, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pinched her lips together in a frown. “And what would you suggest?”

He looked at her for a few seconds, thinking about it, then replied, “I wanted to check out the Academy and the city center. We could take the speeder and go for a ride.”

  
  


Anya smiled and nodded. She was 90% sure that the whole point was for him to play with the speeder, even if he would not admit it. The young countess headed back to the room where she had dropped her suitcase earlier and picked up an unassuming outfit. She had no reason to believe she was spied on, but Dooku had sent her on this assignment and it was foolish to assume she could prance around in gallant company without at least a bit of precaution.

When she walked back into the living room Vader had dropped all pretenses of studying the datapad and was in front of the window, looking at the street. He nodded in agreement when he saw her outfit and they headed out without a word.

She would never admit it, but she enjoyed the speeder ride.

Her Sith companion was an accomplished pilot and even in his awkward, unused new body, he managed to steer the vehicle with a dexterity that would put a pod racer to shame. They flew by the Academy, a bit bland, but still charming in this distinct talravinian way, and then went back closer to the center of Alasia, Talravin's capital. They wandered a couple of hours around the pretty paved streets and lovely small parks that littered Alasia, framing gorgeously the traditional brick and glass buildings that shaped the capital, then went hunting for some local food.

Anya had read that most talravinians had a singular love for pita, some kind of bread they used as wrapping around the most exotic ingredients to form some on-the-go meal. She was eager to try it out and dragged her doubtful partner to a street vendor with a kind smile. Apparently delighted to be faced with virgin palates, he was quick to produce two wraps filled with local vegetables and a delicious sour sauce. It tasted like heaven, and suddenly she was a tad bit jealous that Vader got to enjoy these delicacies every day until their reunion.

They thanked the cook and walked away, silently enjoying their meal. They passed a couple of other cute buildings before finding their speeder.

  
  


“Should we head back?” Anya asked, somewhat unwilling to return to the apartment that fast.

Khan smirked, feeling her hesitation, and replied haughtily, as if he was doing her a favor and wasn't going to absolutely enjoy the ride, “I'll take the long path.”

  
  


She smiled at his antics and settled in the passenger seat. She didn't mind his obvious passion for piloting, and as long as he was responsible enough to let their meal in their stomach, she was happy to see more of Alasia. Grudgingly, she had to admit to herself that his idea had been a lot better than hers. He would never hear it, though, she was just a tad too prideful to admit it to him and he was a tad too cocky not to mock her for it.

They resumed their respective studies once back at the apartment, the silence reigning once again between them.

For all the time they had spent in each others' company in the last two months preparing for their mission, they were still barely more than strangers, and discussing anything other than their respective goals was not an activity they were usually willing to engage in. To ensure their success they had bared their souls to each other, telling the painful tales of their pasts, dissecting their lives to find useful information, and plan accordingly. It had been unpleasant, vaguely liberating and overall not the best experience of her existence. It also made conversing tough, since they were too aware of their counterpart's flaws to misunderstand their true intents, and too distant emotionally to genuinely open up.

Anya sighed and put down her datapad, feeling the day take its toll on her young body. Her neck was stiff, her legs felt heavy and her mind unfocused. She looked at Vader, still reading in his chair with a fuming cup of tea in front of him, and headed towards the refresher.

If he wanted to exhaust himself it was fine by her, but she needed her beauty sleep.

\----

Vader looked at his test with mild distaste.

Easy. He did not expect otherwise, of course, the Talravin flight Academy was supposed to be a cover, not a challenge, but he could not help but feel a tiny bit disappointed by the obvious questions. He parted ways with Anya earlier, leaving her next to a gorgeous hotel in the center to be picked up by Fod while he drove the speeder to the Academy for the entrance exam.

He was received by a charming middle-aged pilot who took him on a short tour and provided some details on the testing process. Alasia hosted a reputable flight Academy and being enrolled was both an honor and a duty, he said, for he would for the rest of his life represent the school that taught him with pride and dignity.

Vader stopped listening shortly after that, bored with the speech already, and was led to a room where around fifty other aspiring pilots would take the written test before heading for the flight simulators.

He spent another ten minutes on his answers, not bothering to hide his knowledge, then rose and handed his datapad to the examiner who looked at him with disbelief. He then headed to the simulator room the pilot had shown him earlier and found an unused bench. Then, he waited.

The Academy building was harmonious, with tall arches and bricks covered in vines, glass ceilings and luminous rooms. It was beautiful, but the warrior in him held nothing but contempt for the pretty buildings. Easy to infiltrate, hard to defend. Should war ever come to Talravin, the capital will bow without any resistance. The talravinians were unbothered, the Core inhabitants used to peace and wealth too much to care about any thought of conflict. He knew for a fact most pilots who made it out of the Academy would be employed on luxurious space yachts and diplomatic vessels. They would barely be taught about fleet strategy and combat, would never simulate true dogfights and war. A pity, when it was where he personally excelled.

  
  


“Mr Vaner? If you are ready you can proceed. Simulator number 4 is ready,” one of the supervisors said.

  
  


He nodded at the lady, barely noticing her kind tone and warm smile. People here were a lot too nice, it was seriously off-putting. Disgusting, sheltered, condescending Core people who never encountered any form of violence in their comfortable lives. He swallowed his spite and took a seat in simulator 4, strapping himself in.

The test had 3 phases to be performed on 3 different ships. A bigger cruiser, a small fighter, and a medium-sized freighter. He would have to complete different tasks related to each ship, among them refueling, landing, and flying around obstacles. He would have to negotiate with his limited weapons and shields to get to his destination while maintaining comfort for his virtual passengers as well as time deadlines. Boring, no challenge, and the “comfort” factor eliminated any possibility of fun.

Still, he made quick work of it and managed to score insanely high if the starstruck look on the lady's face when he got out was any indication. She told him he would receive his results the next day and left him with a kind smile and somewhat flushed cheeks.

Ridiculous, he was supposed to be 16. She was at best improper.

He made his way out without haste and felt a satisfied feeling wash over him at the thought of being able to tour the city with his speeder again. It was sleek, fast and agile, and it was his. He climbed on with a content sigh and started the engine, reveling in the purring noise.

The evening passed in a blur, in between his little driving session and searching the HoloNet for information, and when his comm ringed he had almost forgotten that Anya was supposed to call him after her boring diner at the alasian palace.

She was looking regal, all strict lines and expensive fabrics in darker tones contrasting with her fair complexion. She was also looking suitably annoyed, if a little proud of herself.

  
  


“How did it go?” he asked, entertaining her.

Anya smiled. “Pretty well, the deal should pose no issue and they were interested in a few ideas of further partnerships.”

He vaguely remembered something about that. “The artistic ones?”

“Precisely,” she replied, her smile turning softer, “and how was the exam?”

“Not a concern.” He smirked. “I will have my results tomorrow. I expect to be put in an advanced class.”

“Good. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon?” she drawled, the sentence not sounding like a real question, yet still tainted by some hesitation.

Vader repressed a shrug, “sure.”

  
  


He terminated the call. Anya had done her part, as planned.

Not that he expected otherwise, she had much more to lose in their little adventures than he did. He had been ready to die with his son when they faced the Emperor, in some way he still was. She had been a slave for more than twenty years because of her blind trust in her dear uncle. Whether she admitted it or not, a part of her wanted revenge, and another was terrified of repeating her mistakes.

Vader went through some katas before bed. His legs were still wobbly, weak, his hands lacked dexterity and coordination. Weaknesses. Unforgivable. He forced his body until it screamed under its harsh treatment, his muscles nearly ripping from his bones, his breath shallow, and his heart beating wildly. He had maybe six months before the heretics found him. He needed to be ready.

\----

Anya was having a genuine blast. She had been riding this amazing Fathier called Dia-mhun all morning, trotting peacefully around Talravin's biggest national park in the pleasant company of Prince Levi De-Alasia, the current heir to the throne and Feng De-Salenia, their current senator and remote cousin of king Jevi. The kind and queen were at dinner yesterday evening to welcome their guest but excused themselves from the actual negotiations. From what she gathered Levi had to prove himself worthy of his throne by gradually picking up his father's burden, and the deal with Serenno was to be one of his first true brush with foreign diplomacy.

She should have felt at least mildly insulted to be considered an “easy” mission for the prince, and the original Anya would already have sabotaged the entire affair, but his inexperience was actually a blessing in disguise, and she intended to take full advantage of it.

Feng was making easy conversation, helping her identify foreign trees, flowers, and the occasional animal, and Levi was being amiable enough if a bit condescending towards her admitted ignorance. It didn't matter. Despite his oblivious contempt for the countess, the young sheltered prince had a kind heart and a known love of music, and she got him fervently in favor of the partnership in a record time yesterday when she suggested some cultural exchanges between their two planets in a near future.

She gasped when some mammal of great height crossed their path with what looks to be two small versions of itself trailing after it. The prince laughed kindheartedly, and Feng had a gentle smile dancing on his thin lips. They were a lot nicer than she expected from the offended memories she held. Probably because this time around she indulged in their Core-worlder fantasy of educating the Outer Rim backwater nobility they saw her has. She was a pet project just as much as Serenno, entertainment for people who already had everything.

Good.

Anya cared little for her pride, as long as being considered inferior served her purpose. Here, it made the talks easy and her hosts inattentive. It was perfect, really, and she had no reservation about playing her part.

They soon arrived, taking a charming trail serpenting around old trees and wildflowers that led to an even more charming cottage. It was all bricks and old stones meshing gracefully with a fair amount of ivy and gigantic bow windows reflecting the bright noon sun into the surrounding lush bush of roses. Feng commed an employee to come and pick up the Fathiers and led them inside what he described as the royal family spring estate.

A glorious lunch banquet was set in a glorious veranda offering a glorious view on the disorganized yet amazingly pretty garden growing around the cottage. The table was covered in fruits and dishes in tiny plates, each unique and smelling amazing. She recognized the traditional setting of a talravinian metzei, another thing she had wanted to try during her time here.

Unsurprisingly, it was delicious. She apologized mentally to Vader, who had taken quite a liking in rediscovering his sense of taste, and promised herself to drag him to a restaurant offering some of the delicious side dishes before she left. Maybe Feng would have a good address in town?

Once their meal was over, they changed scenery for a fancy office space with plush couches and ornate glass furniture. Feng eyes had taken a more serious glint and prince Levi also seemed to sober a tad, which pleased her.

They started by outlining the topics they wanted to go over and then began reviewing the joint proposal she provided based on the preliminary meetings and corrected after yesterday's diner. It was quite straightforward, but she knew they would have questions on some of her demands.

  
  


“I studied the draft offer you provided us yesterday, Countess Dooku,” Prince Levi said, his tone even, pleasant, “I think most of the terms are fair, however, I was quite surprised with the material needs you outlined in article 33. Is there a need for that many resources? This would represent a considerable investment.”

Anya smiled sharply, having anticipated his question. “I conducted an extensive analysis of our raw assets and estimated our need for resources accordingly.” She gestured towards the datapad, “if you go through page 53 you will find in Annex 4 a preemptive plan for the exploitation of Cery Delta 5, a moon that is currently not included in our mining operations.”

Senator Feng frowned. “Coaxium? That's unusual.”

“And hard to exploit,” she conceded, feeling anticipation rose in her chest. “We were hesitant to include Cery Delta 5 in the negotiation, as you can surely understand considering the greed some might have for Coaxium.” Anya smiled, professional with a touch of warmth. “However, after meeting with the royal family yesterday I felt like it was actually the perfect project for our alliance.”

“We are honored by the trust you show us, countess Dooku,” replied Prince Levi with a pleased tone, smelling the profitable deal. “Have you already looked into the distribution of the mined resources of Cery Delta 5?”

She hummed in agreement, keeping her posture as perfect and professional as she could despite her need to gloat. She knew she had won. “If you look at page 68, I outlined a basic estimation of potential revenues. Of course, since its exploitation depends directly on talravinian technology we thought you might enjoy a substantial return on your investment.”

  
  


Prince Levi went to page 68 and his right brow rose so high it disappeared under his hairline.

Perfect.

They continued discussing the deal for a couple of hours, arguing on percentages and budget cuts and timelines but with Cery Delta 5 on the line, the talravinians were more than inclined to meet her in the middle and when they signed the official version of the contract later on this afternoon, she knew it would greatly please Count Dooku.

Fod met her back at the palace when the sun was setting in the suite she was occupying and gave her a brief update of the affairs she wanted to keep an eye on. She instructed him to schedule a meeting with the talravinian's mining cabinet to start organizing the first steps of their alliance, then commed her uncle.

It was the first time she was in touch with him outside of HoloMails, and she was more than a bit nervous to see the man again after such a long time, even as a miniature version of himself.

He was everything she remembered. Tall, strict, and sharply dressed, with a well-kept beard and inquisitive eyes. Somehow, after spending 20 years with the Emperor and his guards for sole company, he didn't seem so intimidating anymore, but she knew that if she pushed him he could still very probably destroy her in a duel, and ruin her life in general, which prompted her to exercise cautious respect.

  
  


“Uncle Yan,” she started, politely surprised. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Anya,” he replied, the mixture of clipped coruscanti and drawling serennian accents making her name sound perfectly exotic. “How is your stay on Talravin going?”

“Wonderful,” she chirped, hiding her stress under fake enthusiasm. “The planet is definitely pleasing, and the negotiations were advantageous for Serenno. I sent the signed proposal by HoloMail earlier.”

“Any other input?” he asked, piercing eyes appraising her.

Was she behaving strangely? She breathed in, relaxing her facial muscles in a pleased expression. “I suggested some cultural exchanges to strengthen the bonds between Talravin and Serenno. The prince is quite fond of music, and was very interested in our orchestra.”

“What would we get in return?” he questioned, carefully interested.

Breathing in, and out, face amicable, tone equal. Good. “I still need to work on this suggestion, I wanted to have your opinion first, but I was thinking about developing a partnership between our conservatories, maybe with exchange students and regular performances on either Serenno or Talravin.”

Dooku huffed, unconvinced. “It is very cultural.”

“It could open opportunities in other fields, and I know that you are fond of music yourself,” she replied, her hands now clammy and trembling on her lap. Was she betraying herself?

“Interesting, you have my agreement to move forward with your idea. If these kinds of projects suit you, I might have other missions for you. I was thinking about Duke Solha since you are still in training, but I think you would have more success,” he said, visibly satisfied.

Anya held in a sigh of relief. “Great. I look forward to it. Will you be on Serenno when I return?”

“Yes. I will stay a couple of days to teach you, then I will head back to Coruscant.”

She produced a fake smile she hoped didn't look too fake. “Perfect. I'll see you then. Have a nice evening.”

“You too, my niece,” he replied, familiar warmth tainting his voice.

  
  


Anya ended the call and sighed. She was not particularly looking forward to more training in the Jedi ways. She was adequate but far from remarkable on her best days, and Dooku was a harsh teacher. Dueling amicably was perfectly fine, but she didn't have the right fighting spirit and her level of power was just a touch above average. He was disappointed in that. She always was below his personal standard, that was one of the reasons she had blabbered like a stupid child when she figured out the gift the Force had given her.

Idiot. She felt a shiver ran down her spine. Dooku was proud for a couple of hours, ecstatic even and then it turned to greed. She never realized how good it was to have an insignificant amount of power in the Force until that moment. The man had started to fall a while ago, and she had never been blind to the fact that her family's weird death strike was at least in part due to him. He kept her because she was pretty, easy to mold to his vision and Force Sensitive. Everyone else had been discarded like used toys.

Anya took a deep breath and tried to center herself. Those thoughts, while true, got her nowhere, and she knew it was wrong to blame Dooku for everything that happened after his fault. He had been a victim of Palpatine's manipulation too, and it poisoned their blond. It was upsetting, it was sad, but it was also very much not going to happen this time if she could prevent it and there was no need to further salt her wounds.

Surprising herself, she commed Vader.

  
  


“I'm ready to head back, did you get your results?” she asked, ignoring the lump in her throat.

He grinned, eyes glinting with arrogance. “I'm in, advanced class as planned. I should be done in three years, two if I manage.”

“Perfect.”

“Your meeting?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her lack of enthusiasm.

Anya made a vague hand gesture. “It went well, nothing worth mentioning.”

“Do you want to meet in the center?” he offered tentatively.

She smiled, and an idea crossed her mind. “Yes! I heard of this restaurant, apparently they are really good.”

Vader nodded, lips parted in a tiny smirk. “Good, send me the address.”

“See you there in-” she looked at her regal outfit and had a few seconds of reflection, “half an hour?”

“Yes.”

Anya dropped the smile as he ended the call and changed for something a bit less flashy than her fancy meeting clothes. She then proceeded to exit the palace as quietly as possible, grabbing a small bag with other garments for the next day and her datapad and leaving the rest for Fod to repatriate to the ship. Public transportation was efficient enough to get her close to the restaurant in the desired time frame and she greeted her counterpart with a nod.

They sat, they ordered, and they ate. Vader told her a bit more about the Academy. He would start at the beginning of next week and asked to add to his already busy curriculum an optional class on modern history and politics and another one in advanced engineering. He had to actually go there to argue his point because the lady from the administration wouldn't accept more than one advanced option and tried to get him to drop two. She suspected he used the force to make his arguments more convincing, but kept her thought to herself.

As Feng promised, the food was exquisite. It was truly a shame that she could not spend more time on Talravin, the planet was a delight in many ways. Once again feeling a tad jealous of having to go back to Serenno and train under Dooku while Vader would fly ships and pretend to be a regular if extremely gifted pilot, Anya felt her mood sour slightly.

She wondered if he realized fully how free he was, here. New identity, new life, he could just start over and try to be happy, far away from the intrigue of the Republic and the rise of his former Master.

Anya frowned as she looked at him. He was visibly pleased with the food himself, but no amount of delicious talravinian cuisine would erase the shadow she could see in his eyes. No, he wasn't free at all. He was in many ways his own prisoner, bound to his former life, to his mistakes. In the end, despite the horrors and betrayals she had been submitted to in her past existence, it was next to nothing compared to what he went through. She would have to take care of him, somehow, to make sure he did not self-destruct before he could do whatever he wanted, before he could save the galaxy once again.

She wanted to tell him that she would be there, that he would not be alone, but over four decades of rigid education and repressed feelings stilled her tongue. Despite their ongoing collaboration, she felt that it was not her place and some part of her knew he would react badly to any overt display of support.

He glanced at her with narrowed eyes, apparently curious to know why she decided to stare at him for a full minute without blinking, and she snapped out of it with an apologetic smile.

  
  


“Hormones,” she said, smiling awkwardly.

Vader raised a brow. “Inconvenient.”

Anya grabbed another falafel with her fork, tense, and nodded. “Very much.”

  
  


She knew he understood perfectly that this was a lame excuse, but was polite enough not to comment. Silence reigned for the rest of the dinner.

Once their meal was over, they went back to the apartment after a last tour of the city in the speeder and settled for the night. Anya was just finishing drying her hair after a quick shower when Vader spoke again. He was sitting on the sofa, peering at his datapad again, brows furrowed and leg twitching. Whatever he wanted to ask, it was not easy for him.

  
  


“I want Axxila,” he blurted.

Anya frowned. “Axxila? That was not on our original list of allies.”

“I know,” he replied curtly. “It doesn't have to be a strong alliance, and it doesn't need to happen soon. There is someone there that I want.”

“Do you want to recruit him?”

“He would be a great addition to our fleet once he reaches adulthood,” Vader said, not meeting her eyes.

It was important then, fine. “Understood. I can try to work something out.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, visibly surprised. “Thank you.”

  
  


It was unusual to hear those words from him, and she could somehow feel that he was satisfied. How?

Anya carefully took down her shields, reaching out to the Force and savoring for a quick instant how liberating it felt. The powerful energy made her veins tingle and her ears ring quietly with a subdued pleasure that made her spine shiver. She tamed the power quickly, reigning in her Force presence and sending it around her, prodding at her surroundings.

There.

Intrigued, she focused on the slight shimmer she could discern in the tangled energies around her and frowned. A link. Small, inconsequential, but there. A link with Vader.

  
  


He sighed. “You felt it.”

“How?” she asked.

“When we returned, I suppose.”

Anya frowned. “Is it giving you inputs?”

“Only when we are not both shielding and mostly vague impressions,” Vader replied, not appearing particularly interested by the topic. “You?”

She blushed, embarrassed by her mistake. “Same, I suppose. I wasn't paying attention before.”

  
  


It was stupid, really, but she had grown so used to be cut off the Force for extended periods of time that she wasn't surprised. Still, it was jarring, especially since Vader had probably been aware of it since his awakening in their new present. She touched the bond, making it ring with her shame, and was pleased to feel the echoes of it travel from her mind to his. Interesting. She had never really shared a bond with anyone, her training bond with her uncle was kept to a bare thread since she wasn't officially his Padawan and after him, well she just never had a real opportunity.

Suddenly she felt unease creeping through her bones. Bonds were dangerous, she knew that, and he had to know that too.

Unfazed by her growing turmoil, Vader rang back with curiosity and she saw his face grew both cautious and satisfied when the link burned brighter between them.

  
  


“If we feed it consciously it grows,” he said, interested.

Anya gritted her teeth, nauseous. “Should we though? For a trained force user it is hardly unnoticeable.”

Vader frowned. “It also fits with our plans, and could give us an advantage at some point.”

“Maybe.”

“I feel your fear. Why?”

She sighed, feeling uneasy. “It means keeping myself to the Force, and I have been prone to incidents before.”

He dismissed it with a careless wave of his left hand. “For all of his flaws, the Emperor taught you to control your power quite well. What else?”

“It's the begin of an attachment,” she said, watching as he tensed. “The more we let it grow, the harder it will be to untangle afterward.”

Vader raised a brow, clearly not catching her point. “Do we have to? We are allies, our destinies are already bonded in this life.”

  
  


She didn't answer. His emotions rang true across the bond, he was convinced of what he said. Too bad. Anya closed herself off again, though not as tight as before, trying to let the bond open despite her discomfort. Vader was strong, stubborn, and a man of action, maybe he didn't quite realize what he was setting himself up for. She thought she did, but something held the words in.

Unhappy with him but unable to voice what exactly bothered her, she fled to the bedroom, considering their conversation over, and sighed as she crawled on the bed. Grabbing a pillow to hold, she bit the inside of her cheek as she reflected on her feelings.

Whatever.

It was not going to happen anyway, she would never push in this particular direction and she was quite sure he wouldn't either. They were too old, too damaged, and frankly, he was about fifty times too intense for her taste. The bond would grow, eventually, start to scream at them to get to it, and then, she supposed it would quiet. If he wanted to doom them to a lifetime of lukewarm unsatisfied emotions by expecting this link to stay professional. Fine. She had been unsatisfied during a significant part of her life, it didn't matter anymore. They had a goal, and it was more important than that.

When she fell asleep, her teeth were clenched and her cheek was bleeding.

  
  



	3. The heretics

### Chapter 3: The heretics

  
  


The Academy was boring, and his classmates lacked class.

Khan Vaner was pacing briskly towards the flight simulator room, temper flaring at the thought crossing his mind. Since his arrival 6 months ago he had tried his hardest not to choke anyone to death, but he was one hair away from relapsing, and it was all due to this stupid asshole Jang De-Sola. He was fighting so hard to reign in his vicious ways and pass as an exceptionally brilliant student, a poor orphan who fought all his life to fulfill his destiny and become the best pilot of the galaxy, but Jang would just NOT LET GO!

He sat in one of the simulators, activating the combat mode immediately. He was supposed to study at the library for his mid-term exams, but he already knew nearly everything and the company was unpleasant, so he decided to leave.

Vader brutally destroyed the advanced level of the simulator in a couple of minutes and went at it again another five times before he started to feel a tiny bit better. His first reaction had been to touch his bond with Anya, but as far as he knew she was doing some sort of pilgrimage in a Jedi temple on Dantooine under Dooku's surveillance and it felt childish to interrupt her meditations just to vent about a classmate.

A noise on his left distracted him from the analysis of his sheet score and he frowned. Alys. Perfect, the cherry on top of the rotten cake. He hated quite brightly Jang and his little goons, persuaded to be the center of the galaxy and fixated on making him pay for being too good when his origins were modest. Scums. But as much as he hated the teenager, it held little faced to his distaste for Alys. She was the most annoying being on Talravin, by far, and her simple presence was making his skin crawl.

  
  


“Oh, Khan, wow, you are so good...” she whined, hands clasped near her face in what she wanted to be a demure, yet admiring posture. “I wish I could be as good as you.”

  
  


He didn't dignify her with an answer and rose, shutting off the simulator before starting a tactical retreat toward the entrance of the Academy. If he could not be at peace in either the library or the simulator room, then he would be going home, “imposed study time” be damned.

Alys trailed after him, yapping like an excited puppy, and he focused on Luke and how disappointed his son would be if he murdered his classmates to keep himself in control. Luke would take it all in stride with charm and class. Luke would give her polite smiles and reject her so softly she wouldn't even think about being mad about it. Luke would very much not decorate the corridor with her still warm insides just because he didn't like the sound of her voice and the slimy affection he could feel in the Force. But Sith Hell she was annoying!

  
  


“Do you think you could train me after class one day?” She batted her eyelashes to draw moisture to her eyes, faking emotion. “Mrs. Fera thinks I might not pass my class because of the simulator, she says I am too easily distracted.”

  
  


You bet she was! She was a kriffing menace on a ship, crashing at least twice a week in the simulator, and she was only allowed to stay because of her excellent theory skills. Not that he looked into it, at all, but being forced to listen to her regularly gave him a keen insight into Alys' talents.

He kept going, praying silently for any type of distraction allowing him to escape from the talkative idiot and ran to his vehicle. He kept the speeder, in the end. Anya had been gracious enough to purchase it from the landing bay when she returned with him to her ship. She'd spoken to the renter for a bit while he was waiting on the side, gazing longingly at the black beauty, and had given him the keys with a knowing smile. Under all the ice she was a decent person, and quite frankly their monthly chats via comm-link were becoming increasingly useful to help him stay sane.

  
  


“...And then Jang laughed at me and told me I was useless, you don't think I'm useless, do you Khan?” Alys mewled, cheeks pink and a bit out of breath from keeping up with him while delivering her long-winded speech.

  
  


Jang was not wrong, and it pained him to have to admit it, even to himself. The idiot was still babbling loudly when he felt it. A signature near the landing pad. Intriguing. He opened himself a bit more to the Force to probe at the Force user and was met with a weak but trained presence. Exactly what he expected, the heretics were coming for him.

  
  


“Is it because you have a girlfriend?” Her lip quivered, eyes moist due to her excessive blinking once again. “I promise you Khan it is not like that at all, I just want to be your friend, you always seem so lonely...”

  
  


It was exactly like that, and the denial was not redeeming her in his eyes in the slightest bit, but he was too focused on the Jedi to care about Alys at the moment, and did not deemed her worthy of an answer.

A man, tall, muscular, with dark long hair and a goatee, in his thirties, was waiting at the Academy entrance. The receptionist seemed to know him and nodded in his direction when Khan appeared. She flashed him a warm smile and interrupted the harpy.

  
  


“Mr. Vaner? I was about to comm you, someone wanted to speak to you.”

  
  


He nodded and walked toward the Jedi. Alys, obviously interrupted in her efforts and intimidated by the presence of both adults, choose a tactical retreat for this time and went back into the corridor leading to the simulator room, for his greatest pleasure.

Maybe this day was going to be less bad than planned, after all. The Jedi had a calm expression and seemed quite relaxed, if a bit excited to meet him. He introduced himself as Master Lun Su-Li and after some rather useless small talk suggested they continue their conversation at a cafe nearby.

Vader was always in for food and drinks of any kind, still enjoying fully his brand new senses, and followed him without any opposition, which seemed to please him. He couldn't really see why, following strangers around just because they were offering food and drinks was hardly proof of intelligence. Obi-Wan would have chastised him for hours if he had done something like that during his apprenticeship under him. Thankfully, Obi-Wan wasn't there, and Lun Su-Li obviously didn't uphold the same professional standards.

He settled for a nice cup of caf and some talravinian sugary treats he was growing fond of and waited for Lun Su-Li to start talking. He was obviously here to try to recruit him in his little cult, and that was exactly what Vader wanted. He could not, however, let him know that. Yet.

  
  


“Have you ever heard about the Force, Khan?” he asked in a calm, kind voice that seemed to perfectly match with his personality.

Vader tried very hard not to roll his eyes and replied in what he hoped to be a naive and eager voice. “A bit. It's the Jedi power, right?”

Su-Li smiled, feeling like amusement and soft, mushy compassion. “It's a bit more complicated than that, let me explain it shortly.”

  
  


Vader endured about five to ten minutes of Force theory, most of it inaccurate and nearly blasphemous for someone as knowledgeable about the Force as he was. He finished his first cup of caf and ordered a second, looking for something to distract himself with as his right eye twitched painfully each time Lun Su-Li said something particularly untrue. The older man seemed to finish his explanation, at last, and smiled at him again. He did not return it.

  
  


“You must wonder why I swept you from school to talk about the Force?” he asked kindly.

Vader repressed an exasperated sigh, determined to play nicely. If he wanted to join Lun Su-Li's merry cult, he had to at least pretend for a while that he was completely ignorant about anything Jedi-related. “A bit. Is it because I have it?”

The Jedi nodded. “Yes, your abilities already influence you, with piloting for example.”

“Is this why I find it so easy?” Vader asked, cringing internally.

“Yes,” he said, warm and bright and insufferable, “and with training, you will find other areas where the Force is your ally.”

“Are you offering me training?”

Su-Li shook his head, dark eyes glinting with mirth. “Not me per se, our temple do not function this way, but if you are interested, then we offer to train you, yes.”

What would a baby Jedi ask? Vader let his face darken, though his lower lip most certainly did _not_ tremble. “Does that mean I have to give up the Academy?”

“No, not at all,” Su-Li replied, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “You will have to pass a small test, nothing to worry about, and we will then define with you some times during the week when you can come to the temple. The Academy is already aware, they were the ones who contacted us.”

“Fine. When do you want to do this test?” Vader hadn't wanted to be so curt, but he was starting to get really tired of this entire fake conversation, and he had finished his pastries.

“Well if you want to, we can go to the temple right now. As I said it is really a routine check, nothing you would need preparation for.”

“Okay, then let's go.” It might have come out a bit too much like an order, but the Jedi seemed to take it as eagerness. Good.

  
  


He paid, they rose, then made their way to the temple Lun Su-Li had spoken about. They did not even require a speeder, it was ridiculously close to the Academy, and to be honest, a bit tacky too.

The outside looked exactly like any other building in Alasia, minus a small golden pyramid near the front doors, but the inside definitively lacked the quaint and airy feeling most talravinians seemed to favor. It was all cream marbles, dark woods, heavy gold details and ceilings covered in paintings. He was reminded for a while of a mutant hybrid child between Theed's Royal Palace on Naboo and Palpatine's questionable aesthetics for the Imperial Palace. Distasteful.

He was led to a large foyer with a high ceiling decorated with 2 tall statues of a man and a woman that must serve as some sort of ceremonial room. It could be exited by four arched doors excluding the one they entered from. Su-Li pushed the opening button of the one on the far left to reveal a small training room with soft floors and various weapons on the walls. The room was bathed in the afternoon light by tall windows and was separated by transparisteel panels from some sort of meditation garden. Nice enough, and more his style.

The Jedi sat on the floor and motioned for Vader to imitate him. He obliged, curious to the “test” Su-Li would have him take, and sat in front of him.

A box flew before them, full of toys probably meant for children, and Vader felt his insides liquefy, mortified at the idea that he was about to undergo a variant of the same stupid stuff they made him do before he became a Padawan. Recognizing hidden objects, making them fly if possible, and possibly letting the Jedi probe at his mind to feel his emotions. Wonderful. Perfect.

They began with the guesses, easy. He saw a Krayt dragon, a Lothwolf, a Fathier and some miniature spaceship. Test done. Then Su-Li told him to try and make any of the objects move. He settled for the dragon and made it roll pitifully on its side. The Jedi was delighted. Pathetic.

Anakin had been a supernova in the Force, shining brighter than anyone he had ever met, his power unrivaled. His rare defeats were due to his poor strategic skills at the time and sometimes his arrogance, never a lack of power. Vader had terrorized the galaxy for decades, his unrestrained use of the Dark side allowing him to perform feats most actual Council members would think of as mere fantasies, a black shadow with an ominous breath, predatory and inspiring horror in his enemies. Khan had a functional body, a healthier relationship with the Force and four decades of experience using it either for the Light or the Dark side.

He was not going to jump around like an overjoyed toddler because he made the Krayt dragon toy move.

In his hubris, he half considered the idea of going to Tatooine to tame some real Krayt dragons and have them around to assert his power, but quickly gave up. The beasts had a nasty temper and a tendency to eat way too much meat to be considered good pets. A shame.

  
  


“It's encouraging Khan,” the Jedi said, smiling gently yet again. Softy. “With a bit of training your abilities should develop nicely. If you allow me I will do a brief mind check, nothing too special, this is just a routine probe, you'll probably not feel anything.”

Of course he was going to feel it. Oh, well, ignorance was bliss, he supposed, and it definitely served his design. He nodded. "Go ahead.”

  
  


Vader moved his shield around slightly, arranging for a steady, balanced flow of energy to bathe his quiet mind. Contrary to the man's poor thinking he was well able to sense his unrefined probing around his mind and allowed a few fleeting memories to trickle out. His annoyance when Jang teased him on his lack of parents and poor origins, his satisfaction in the flight simulator, his curiosity for the Jedi. All genuine, all curated to fit with his current age and background, carefully leaving out the constant ruminations about the past and future and frequent violent thoughts that polluted his mind.

Lun Su-Li smiled, his thin lips revealing perfectly aligned white teeth, his dark eyes glinting.

  
  


“Well Khan, you passed all the tests. If you still want to be trained, we hold sessions every evening from 1800 until 2100. There are five teachers, including me, and we alternate between theory and practice to keep things interesting. If you want to come outside of the sessions, this room and the garden are open at all times, first come first served.”

“Thank you, Master Su-Li,” he replied, not even bothering to hide his satisfied smile. “I'll try to pass by once or twice a week.”

“Sounds good! I'm sure you'll make quick friends with the group, they are all very nice.”

“I hope so.”

  
  


Like he gave a damn. He was lowering himself to attend some weird kind of tutoring group for struggling Force Sensitive kids dreaming of being Jedi led by heretics rejected by the Order for their lenient views on nearly every rule they were supposed to abode by. The thought made his skin crawl. Even with his distaste for the Order and their rules, the idea of associating himself with those wannabe Jedi with zero self-control was painful. Still, it was the plan, and it was progress.

Lun Su-Li spent an uncomfortable amount of time reassuring him that he would be nicely integrated and that his powers were nothing to be shy off. He seemed to be resentful of the Jedi Order, who never agreed upon officially knighting his poor students, and justified it by invoking beliefs divergence. Fine, if that was what he wanted to call it, Vader was not going to stop him from trashing the Council, even if he personally thought that these “beliefs divergence” from the Order were very much justified.

He finished his little speech by telling him they were still able to build their own lightsaber when they were ready for it, not that Vader would have any trouble building one by himself, and let him go with mild apologies for being so talkative.

Khan bid him goodbye as soon as he could do so without looking rude and out of character, then fled toward his speeder and returned swiftly at home, finally able to roll his eyes as he thought back on his very annoying day.

  
  


\----  
  


On Dantooine, Anya was enjoying a quick spar with her uncle in between her meditations. The whole planet was pulsating with life, begging her to listen, to taste, to scent, to see everything it had to offer. Beautiful, but dangerously distracting. She quickly wiped her sweaty forehead and assumed her stance again, ready for another pass.

Yan Dooku had been quite similar to what she remembered, but with her knowledge of the future it was now easier to see how darkness was slowly consuming him. He was rough, sometimes, callous, and he did not tolerate failure with as much grace as he did in the past. He pushed her a tad too much when they trained, almost impatient, and she knew exactly why. He needed an Apprentice, someone to train in the Dark side, and she was still not powerful enough to satisfy his Master's designs.

The first time, he eventually pressured her enough to awaken her powers and then tried to help her master them. She had accidents upon accidents, unable to tame the raw and chaotic energy newly awakened, until he finally decided to lock her up in Serenno's Citadel under Force suppressing binds and to definitely replace her with Asajj Ventress, the young Nightsister he had been silently using as his personal assassin and training on the side. He had told her it was for her own good and oriented her towards internal politics, but the betrayal had still stung and they had drifted further apart as time went by until he got himself decapitated and she got transferred from Serenno to the Imperial Palace as Palpatine's brand new toy.

She did not want to even think about the Imperial Palace. The only good thing that came out of that wretched place was that she finally learned how to control her powers.

She broke her usual defensive Soresu stance for a couple of Makashi strikes to please him then reverted back to her favored form, happy with dragging on the exchange for a couple more minutes. Dooku finally disarmed her with a quick fling of his wrist and they bowed.

  
  


“Solah,” she panted, slowly recovering her breath.

“That was good,” he stated, looking as though they had been braiding grass for half an hour and not sparring at high speed. “Don't open your feet too much when parrying though, I could have passed your guard easily a couple of times.”

She tried a smile, it came out stiff and sweaty. “Thank you, uncle.”

“I have a call with Jelucan,” Dooku told her, frowning lightly. “You can stay here and meditate until dinner.”

“I will.”

He clipped his lightsaber on his belt and looked at her with narrowed eyes. “We will be departing tomorrow.”

  
  


Anya nodded and he left for his ship. Dooku was concerned with her, she could feel it, but he refused to address it. She knew he found her behavior strange, she was more closed off than before, more focused on herself and less on pleasing him, and he couldn't pinpoint the reason for her sudden leap in maturity.

From what she had gathered from his careful line of questions he believed something happened to her on Talravin, something significant enough to affect her whole behavior. She wasn't trying to prove him wrong, dropping some hints that her discussions with prince Levi had been “enlightening”. He probably thought she had a silly crush on him and was trying to prove herself worthy of the condescending Core world prince. It didn't matter, as long as she could worm her way out of becoming his Apprentice and into more galactic politics without being discovered, she was okay with it.

Pushing the thoughts away she crossed the ruins of the ancient Jedi enclave that once stood on the green and lush planet and sat down before a thundering waterfall, feeling little drops of water refreshing her sweaty face. She closed her eyes and opened herself to the Force once more, feeling the habitual tingling as the powerful energy thrummed in her veins and pushed her towards the galaxy. Carefully she let herself drift in the Force, letting go of her emotions and thoughts to focus on aligning with the energy.

After a couple of minutes she started to hear whispers and noises. She checked that her uncle was still on the ship, and he was, before letting herself go a bit deeper, feeling herself being immersed in the Force as one plunged in deep, fresh water. The whispers were louder now, the noises too and she could start seeing seemingly unrelated scenes from different planets, echoes of life and death from the whole galaxy.

Her fingers were tingling again, the sensation stronger now, and she could picture the threads of destinies around her, hers to play with. One of them, bigger, made of platinum and dark smoke and something unnatural she identified as “future” or “un-lived” connected herself to Vader. She let it aside, unwilling to touch it when Dooku was that close, and took a mental step back to get a picture of the whole. It was a pulsating mass, tangled and messy and alive, filled with impressions and voices and memories. Connections. She cleared her mind as much as she could and projected in the Force, asking where she was needed, where her help would do the most good. The Force warmed her core, spreading like liquid fire in her veins, embracing her with a strong warmth she hadn't felt in decades, and answered.

Unnatural fire – Smoke – Valorum's distressed face – A battle – Jedi's funerals – the smell of burnt corpse being returned to the Force – a planet that became a prison.

The threads were moving like snakes now, whispering warnings and threats against changing anything too significant, begging her to let the present flow as intended, to stay on pattern. She pulled on her power and made them go quiet, annoyed by their inference, and promised the Force to upset the least amount of patterns that she could. Her vow rang true, echoing into the energy like a series of music notes before the threads, appeased, went back to their original state.

She smiled and pulled herself out of the trance slowly, careful not to upset the balance of energy that made her float a few centimeters above the ground too strongly. The waterfall seemed louder now, closer. She exhaled and shut off her connection, letting the energy trickle through just enough to keep herself in control, then opened her eyes.

Anya stayed seated, taking a moment to gather herself before rising and hiking back to their ship. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows and pink lights on the ruins of the ancient Jedi temple. She gave a last prayer to the beautiful nexus growling peacefully beneath her feet before entering the shiny shuttle her uncle used for his personal flights and smiled when it purred against her in return, satisfied by their interactions.

She had gained a lot of insights in the last few days, all pointing towards possible paths to influence events to her benefit without disturbing the future she knew too much. Dooku took her here to strengthen her in the Force and further her desire to walk in his path. It worked, the first time, Dantooine was a powerful place and her bridled abilities had flourished there. Now, it served another purpose by allowing her to refine their plans and attune herself with the flow of the present galaxy.

She was still very much an intruder here and during her first few months, the Force had rejected her influence, casting any attempts at making different choices astray and making her life overall difficult. Vader had suffered similar issues, though his natural strength was usually enough to power his way through despite the hindrance caused by the Force. It was slowly getting better though, they were starting to connect with their environment, making bonds, creating memories and anchoring themselves in this time.

Hopefully, the progress she made here on Dantooine would prove to be significant enough to grant her partial success in her future endeavors.

Her uncle had already ordered their protocol droid to set the table and prepare dinner. She smiled at him and sat in front of a plate of traditional serennian stew originating from Carannia they were both fonds of. The strong aroma was making her salivate, but she knew better than to eat before Dooku himself started. He picked up his fork, sliced a piece of meat and she herself reached for her utensils.

  
  


“I hope this journey was enlightening, my niece,” Dooku began with, watching her with shrewd eyes over his glass of wine.

“Very much so, uncle. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to come,” she replied, trying not to sound robotic and failing.

Luckily, he didn't seem to take outrage at her stilted words. “It is my duty as your teacher to show you those places, even if Dantooine does not particularly align with my personal strengths. Have you gained any insights from your meditations?”

Time to sound mysterious and confused. “I asked where I could do the most good and was shown something unusual.”

“Oh? Could you describe it?” He asked, acting politely surprised when his eyes were dissecting her every move.

She tried to feign even more confusion, and let out a tiny frustrated sigh. “Vague impressions at best, but I recognized chancellor Valorum and an impression of chaos surrounding him. I am not sure how to interpret it though. Should I try to get closer to the Chancellor, the Senate, or maybe Coruscant itself? Am I meant to solve a problem or will my presence create this chaos? I am afraid the Force wasn't particularly clear. As such, I am unsure of the path to take. What would you recommend?”

  
  


Dooku munched a few seconds on a perfectly cooked vegetable, reflecting on her questions. She had disturbed him, she knew that. Valorum needed to fall for his Master's plans to unfold, and involving Anya could turn dangerous. Then again, if she was meant to create the chaos and push the Chancellor on his way out, his Master would be most pleased.

Anya smiled internally, enjoying his conflict with an unhealthy amount of cruelty. Her personal interpretation went much deeper than what she told him, and the vision was not nearly as unclear as she made it out to be. Not that could tell him, he needed to be given the impression of choice, it was incredibly important to diffuse his suspicions.

  
  


“Would you appreciate spending more time on Coruscant? I know you are well acquainted with a couple of senators, and observing politics from up close might be a valuable experience, Force impressions or not,” he offered, watching intently how she responded to his bait.

Anya lowered her gaze demurely, the picture-perfect young princess put in front of a tough choice. “I am unsure. I would not want to let you down, I know how much you invested in my training.”

He waved her concerns off. “Your training is nearly complete. There are not many things I can teach you anymore, not without being your true Master and taking you with me on missions.”

“I'm not keen on battles,” she whispered, cheeks tinged pink in fake shame.

Dooku rose a brow. “I am aware. Your connection with the Force is strong but does not serve you in combat. I had a feeling however that you held no love for politics.”

Anya needed to hammer it down, this was the best shot she had gotten since she got back, she could not screw this up! Breathing deeply, she centered herself and aimed for an insecure yet eager tone. “While I don't particularly like politicians, I am starting to enjoy the art itself. Serenno is thriving, thanks to you. I would like to contribute,” she finished in a whisper, “if you judge me adequate.”

He stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating his decision, then took a sip of wine before answering her. “Very well, then it is settled. After the fundraising on Jelucan you will go to Sullust. Their pilot Academy needs funding and they requested an audience. If you succeed in negotiating good terms for Serenno I will send you to Coruscant as a junior legislator. Our current senator will teach you all he knows. He will retire next year, if you prove yourself, you'll replace him.”

She frowned. “And Chancellor Valorum?”

“Leave him alone for now,” he replied, seemingly annoyed at her question. “Spending time on Coruscant will refine your feelings and point you in the right direction.”

Anya smiled, exuding gratefulness by each pore of her skin. “Thank you, uncle Yan! You don't realize how much your trust means to me.”

  
  


He smiled and for an instant she was sixteen again, preening under his kind eyes. She felt some relief coming from him and understood he was happy that she expressed a wish to drift off the Apprentice path, even if he would never admit it. Parts of him were still good, she knew it, and those precious shards of her beloved uncle Yan shone brighter this evening.

They finished their meal in silence, comfortable enough with each other to avoid baseless chitchat if they had nothing to say, but before retreating to her cabin she indulged in one childish act to celebrate her victory and maybe help the Light claim a little more of Yan Dooku.

She hugged him and told him she loved him.

  
  


He seemed hesitant at first, unsure of what to do, but eventually he hugged her back, his scent both familiar and foreign, and whispered into her blond hair. “Be careful, my niece, attachments are dangerous for people like us.”

  
  


Anya smiled against his shoulder, only a tiny bit bitter because she knew exactly how dangerous her attachment to him had been in the past, and relished in the moment, enjoying his warm embrace for the first time in more than thirty years.

  
  


\----

Vader was making great progress.

The heretics, they called themselves the Shans, which he personally found hilarious, had been increasingly impressed by his abilities in the Force, as planned, and he had already heard Lun Su-Li whispering about lineage and prophecies to one of the other Master during one of his training.

Foolish little Jedi, so easy to trick for an old recovering Sith like him.

His mid-term exams at the Academy were met with the same amount of outstanding success, impressing his teachers into letting him into more advanced classes. If everything went well, and it would, he would graduate in 2 years instead of 3, and he couldn't say he wasn't pleased.

He typed absentmindedly on his datapad the few details from his advanced engineering class that seemed relevant with a bored air and felt Jang get impatient in the Force. The annoying prick was in most of his classes and had similarly benefited from an advancement after the midterms. Apparently, he was second of their initial promotion, after him, and quite well acquainted with influential talravinians. He had been consistently looking for a fight since the start of the new term two days ago and seemed to be at the end of his very limited patience.

Vader wanted to kill him, but he knew it would stain his stay at the Academy and he did not want anyone to find out anything suspicious on his background outside of what he had leaked himself when he would join Anya later on. Still, surely it was normal for any students to have a few enemies in their classes? Maybe he could retaliate, at least a bit? Make him fall down a flight of stairs or carefully throwing a pencil right in his eye would already be gratifying at this point.

His thoughts derailed from the frustrating teenager to Anya and a wave of concern washed over him. She had made her move for Coruscant, and Dooku had obliged. Still, he did not trust even one toenail of the old Sith Lord and from her tale, her actions had been bold. How much of that had been disclosed to Sidious? Will it slip under his radar or would he look closer into it, intrigued by the suddenly calm and collected Countess who abruptly chose a civilian career over exploring the Force?

Then again Sidious had a lot on his plate plotting the next blow to Valorum's desecrated rule, the invasion on Naboo. Maybe there was a chance that this would slip through his radar, disregarded as teenage anxiety he had no patience for.

Vader's eyes narrowed. There was something he wasn't seeing, something they missed in their plans. What was it?

Palpatine had pushed for the Trade Federation to organize a blockade over Naboo in order to be elected Chancellor. Valorum had honestly not been the best one the Senate had known, much more a paper pusher than a leader, and still he had been reelected when Palpatine could have campaigned. Why? Was Palpatine afraid to come closer in contact with the Jedi at this point in time? Wasn't he powerful enough to withstand their scrutiny? He had done so for years afterward, it did not seem impossible. Unless...

“ _Did you ever hear the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?_ "

" _Darth Plagueis had once remarked that the Force can strike back._ "

" _Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself._ "

Kriff. He needed to speak to Anya.

Focusing inward he tugged at the bond, a thin thread giving their physical distance, and made it echo three short times, signifying he needed to discuss something with her that could not wait until their next planned call. She rang back two times and he agreed with a last tug. Good, she would comm him in 2 hours. He would just need to find a place to talk to her alone.

Looking at the chrono Vader sighed impatiently.

This could be a major breakthrough and significant help to their plans, and he had the displeasure of having to suffer through his boring engineering class for another hour and a half. Her call would happen during his lunch break, how pitiful was that! Frustrated, he started typing furiously on his datapad, not vague notes on the class anymore but bits and pieces he started to connect in a legitimate plan. His jaw set, eyes focused, he explored possibilities, evaluated resources, timelines and possible setbacks.

If the tiny Anakin Skywalker that was currently an eight years old reckless slave child on dusty Tatooine had seen his future self, he would have been gobsmacked. Planning was very much not his thing. Perhaps Anya had been a good influence on that particular front?

With his mind on an interesting task, for once, engineering went much faster than expected. Jang tried to corner him afterward but he avoided him and grabbed a quick pita sandwich from the cafeteria before retreating to one of the isolated study rooms in the library. It was small, but it was private enough, and there was little chance that he would be disturbed during his call. Plus, if they wanted to know what he was doing here, he would just be a student in a library. Nothing strange.

Anya called with an encrypted frequency when he was finishing his sandwich.

“Hey, Khan. Why the sudden call?”

The holo showed she was wearing some type of elaborate dress that looked burnt for some reason. Weird.

He wiped his mouth while swallowing the last bits of his food before he replied. “I came across a disturbing conclusion this morning, and I will require your help. Why does your dress look burnt?”

“I am heading to a gala, the aim is to raise awareness to several Mid and Outer Rim planets currently in crisis due to natural disasters. I was picked to represent Coyerti who is suffering from severe forest fires,” she replied, mouth twisted in a displeased pout. Clearly, the burnt dress hadn't been her first choice.

“It's organized by the committee you joined?”

“The SCIR, yes. A lot of other junior legislators are going to be there, and a few senators.” She straightened and scratched her arm, visibly uncomfortable in the garment. “What do you need my help with?”

“I believe Darth Plagueis is still alive at the moment. Sidious will need to kill him before his ascension but I don't believe he will until he trusts Maul enough to be revealed to the Jedi.”

“In one year and a half then, during the Naboo invasion. It still doesn't answer my question,” she retorted, annoyed either by his response or by the scratchy dress.

“I want to be the one who kills him,” Vader droned, refusing to express any feeling about the matter.

Anya raised a brow. “Why? Isn't it good to let Sidious do it?”

“I'm starting to believe there is more to the rule of Two than I understood. To become a true Master you must kill another, why?” he asked, gaining her full, rapt attention.

“Power,” she whispered.

“That's also what I think. If I kill him, this power will forever be lost to Sidious,” Vader stated. He knew very well that killing wasn't the only condition to fulfill in order to become a Master, Palpatine had mocked him enough for losing the ability when he burnt on Mustafar, but Anya had no need to hear anything about it. This was a Sith secret.

“But the Force might retaliate if you change something this significant!”

“I don't believe it will. Plagueis played with the law of nature, he created life from the Force. He was arrogant in his power, I don't believe he ever gave back.”

Anya hummed in assent. “Then it might even favor you for righting this wrong, as it had favored Sidious in the first place.”

“I will need a ship and my costume.” Kriff this sounded ridiculous! He caught her smiling, and narrowed his eyes threateningly.

“Do you already know on which planet he is?” she asked with amused eyes, graciously avoiding any unwanted comment.

“At first I thought Coruscant, but Plagueis is a Muun, they don't usually frequent the capital all that much, and both his and Sidious' powers would have been difficult to shield from the Jedi.”

“Then where?”

“Tatooine.”

“Tatooine? Why?”

“Anakin Skywalker. I will have to meditate to make sure, but if my guesses are true there is no place he would rather be at the moment.”

Anya seemed on the verge of asking for more details but didn't. “Okay. I'll organize it and comm you the hangar number later, when do you want to go?”

“This weekend if possible, we have an additional day off for some ridiculous talravinian tradition, three days should be enough to make the trip, kill him and come back.”

She nodded. d“Fine. Keep me updated, and Khan?”

“Yes?”

“Stay safe,” she asked, her voice laced with worry. “Sidious loved to drone about Plagueis, I doubt he will be an easy foe.”

“I will. I'll comm you when it's done.”

“Thank you.”

Vader felt himself smile as she ended the call and took a second to school his features back to careful neutrality. The more time passed in their new present, the more he started to like her. She was the only link he had with his true self and the only one with who he could really be himself in this timeline. Even if he tried to dismiss it, it mattered, and the feeling of companionship she invoked was pleasant.

Their bond pulsed happily, satisfied by their brief interaction, and he was about to roll his eyes at such blatant sentimentality when he saw movement on the edge of his vision.

Jang. He had been looking at him through the tiny square window on the door. Kriff he was annoying. What had he seen? Did he get to look at Anya? Did he recognize her? No, it was very unlikely. Jang was extremely self-centered and considered most off-worlders with contempt, he would not be cultivated enough to be able to recognize the relatively unknown Countess Dooku.

Still, it was a clear breach of privacy, and he did not like the idea of Jang seeing him talking to Anya and being himself. He must have seen him smile. No one had seen him truly smile on Talravin yet. Sith Hell this was embarrassing.

He gathered his things, still frowning. His next class was advanced galactic physics and it was one of the only ones that was genuinely interesting, he would try not to dwell either on Jang or on Plagueis during the two hours it would last.

Unsurprisingly, though, Jang was waiting for him with three of his goons in front of their classroom. Annoying, again. Should he just Force choke them all? He could pretend it was a nut allergy, and there were no cameras. No! Using the Force to end those barely sapient assholes would be sacrilege, and he could already see Luke's disappointed face if he learned of his pointless murder spree. No, he should just remain calm and collected. When he would find Plagueis he could express all of his Sith homicidal tendencies and assuage his anger issues, but in the meantime, his cover was worth more than his ego.

“Soooo, Khan the orphan,” he mocked, “seems like some lady hasn't yet realized how much of a poor and uncultivated disappointment you are? Where is she from? Oh, don't tell me, if she is willing to even speak with you she must be from one of those Outer Rim backwater planets.”

He was reciting the Sith code backward to avoid lashing out. This was childish and unwarranted, a true testimony of the boy's maturity. He could sense jealousy underneath the taunting. For all his tongue, Jang never got to the dating stage with any girl yet, and being bested yet again by Khan did not sit well with him. Vader gloated internally, thoughts tainted with contempt. He had gone a lot farther than the dating stage with a girl. Hell, he had twenty-three years old twins with his wife, this teenager Bantha crap was far behind him now!

Any amusement he felt soon died. Like his wife did. Remembering the past now was a low blow to inflict on himself and a clear threat to his ability to react in a proper way to the interaction.

“Oh come on farmer boy! Not even a reaction when I insult your girlfriend?” Jang laughed, turning to his goons to get their attention before the last part of his detestable show. “I saw your face earlier, so eager to please her, like a little puppy rolling over for his master.”

Darth Vader had never thought he could despise anyone more than he had despised Tarkin or Krennic, but this kid was rising through the rank of his most hated list at light speed.

Still, he would not lower himself to his level. He schooled his expression in a mask of cold indifference and started walking again, intent on entering the classroom.

“The class is about to start.”

He heard a couple of girls swoon when he spoke and resisted rolling his eyes. Seriously, his behavior was cold, aloof and he never spoke to anyone outside of imposed social interactions, how could they like it?

Girls were weird. At least as Darth Vader, this whole hormonal teenager thing had been a lot less annoying. He could count on his fingers the number of suitors who had dared to pursue him. None had survived past the point of declaring their flames. Idiots.

He tried his best to listen during the class, taking useful notes and answering the teacher's questions when they were directed to him but darted towards his speeder as soon as the day was over. He had a Sith Lord to kill, and if he had one more interaction with Jang today he was going to snap his scrawny little neck.

Khan drove too fast, as per usual, and headed home. Usually, he would pass by the Temple for the evening lecture, but he wanted to meditate on Darth Plagueis' location and doing so at the Temple was a bad idea for several reasons, mostly because his type of dark meditation would certainly leave any Master present with a ton of questions he wasn't going to answer.

When he entered he closed the blinds, plunging the cozy apartment in darkness. He then went to the bedroom to retrieve his lightsaber from the hidden safe in the wall and returned to the living room to sit cross-legged on the plush cream carpet that covered a fair chunk of the floor.

He activated the lightsaber and let it float In front of his face, then, carefully, he closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force.

Vader's meditative landscape had changed a lot since Luke managed to turn him back to the Light, even if it still fluctuated quite a bit depending on how deep he was in either the Dark or the Light. Currently, the ocean he pictured was dark but placid, even if he could feel some dangerous currents below the peaceful surface, traces of his earlier agitation. The sky though was not as cloudy as usual, the suns were shining, reflecting gorgeous purple, green and blues lights on the somber waters. All around him tiny blue butterflies flew, fluttering happily in the sunlight while above him an enormous white bird was soaring, performing the most incredible acrobatics. Luke.

He let himself smile and made a sign to the bird who rewarded him with a delighted trill that rang through his entire being and chased the resonances of his dark feelings for Jang. He quit his own space with regrets and dove below the water, seeking connection with the Dark side of the Force. The energy met him, curious and delighted, whispering how happy it was to have him back, how many great things they could do together. He felt it wrap around his shoulders in a cold embrace, purring against him like a satisfied lover seeking even more attention. Khan gritted his teeth and pushed through before it could twist anything, imposing his question on the Force.

_Where was Plagueis?_

The power crooned, caressing his scales and trailing along his spine until two tendrils licked at his temple, feeding him a vision of Plagueis' exact location. The Rakata temple on Tatooine. Very appropriate, all things considered.

He kicked up, the lush water becoming heavy oil as he tried to emerge from the Dark presence, and got off with a promise to use his Dark abilities soon and what he translated as a very sharp smile from the Force. When he got above the ocean the bird sang again, cleaning his soul with something that sounded a lot like a reprimand from a concerned parent. Amused, he entertained it for a couple of minutes, enduring his fussing energy without complaint before exiting his mind space and turning his lightsaber off.

Khan looked at the chrono on the wall and saw the suns had already set. He had stayed there for six hours. He felt rested, maybe a little hungry. He tightened his mental shield with a sigh, careful to hide his Force presence again and present only mediocre to medium level abilities. He then rose, feeling his legs protest from being seated in the same position for hours, and hid his lightsaber before retreating to the kitchen for a late snack before bed.

He grabbed his datapad in passing, reviewing his notes while chewing on a ration bar because he was too lazy to cook.

Anya had sent her the coordinates of the hangar she will send the ship to, and an encrypted file with notes on what she remembered about Plagueis. Nice touch. He read through it quickly, adding useful information to his own notes as he went, and went through two cups of tea before deciding to turn in for the night.

Plagueis was a Muun, and a clever one. He had been behind a lot of the plans Palpatine benefited from, a careful thinker. He was old, though. Old, weak, and full of hubris, so convinced of his own power over the Force that he forgot the Force had no master and cared little for those who offended it. If he was right, if it was Plagueis...

Well, then it was personal.


	4. Wine and dine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, minor character death, disturbing handling of a corpse, non-cannon graphic Sith ritual

### Chapter 4: Wine and dine

On Coruscant, Anya clapped politely to applaud the artists. Next to her Prince Levi was commenting with pleasant enthusiasm on the opera that just concluded.

She was in a big lodge with other socialites and young wolves ready to take a piece of the coruscanti cake for themselves. There were laughs, smiles and an overall aura of kindness, but all of them were there for professional reasons and it would have been foolish to believe they were not creating alliances.

Anya had joined several interesting clubs and committees when she was introduced to the coruscanti political life. Sometimes it involved fighting for things she actually cared about, like the forest fires on Coyerti, the preserving of local fauna on mining planets or the zygerrian slave issues. Sometimes, like that night, it was more about being seen with the right persons at the right location to gather useful favors.

She spoke for a while with three other junior legislators from Corellia and Coruscant, polished and bright with an aristocratic serennian accent that Coruscant citizens seemed to love, then excused herself with grace and a promise to work together the next day on the Coaxium tax bill that they had started drafting for the next Senate session.

The senator from Axxila seemed out of place, and in more way than one, he was. Levi had invited him on Anya's recommendation, but it was very clear he was not completely comfortable with the luxurious suite and voracious Core-worlders. Anya grabbed two flutes of bubbling wine from Alderaan and joined him, handing him a drink and a disarming smile.

Callum Natt seemed relieved to see her, if a little put off by the image she gave with her strict burgundy dress, slicked-back ponytail and Countess cloak. She was well aware of her severe looks compared to the sheer, vaporous and flowy dresses the other girls in attendance were wearing. It was intended, both as a family tradition and as a personal preference. Even during what was supposed to be her “leisure” time, Anya Dooku still wanted to look like a respectable political figure. It helped assuage concerns with her age, and her gender. It also, unfortunately, enabled some nasty comparisons between her and other girls, the kind of gossip she abhorred.

“Callum Natt? She asked, though she knew quite well the answer to her own question, “we discussed by HoloMail I believe.”

He gave her a tense smile and a sharp nod. “Exactly. A pleasure to meet you, Countess Dooku.”

Anya smiled, prime, polished, perfect. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Natt.”

To be honest she was barely testing the waters here. Vader wanted someone that he knew was from Axxila to join him in his future endeavors, but from what he had told her the person in question was still very much a child at the moment and would not be of use before another ten years at least.

Still, Axxila was a bold but not completely unreasonable choice of ally, and she had a very good idea of how they could foster amicable relationships. After a few minutes of uninteresting small talk to loosen up the rather uptight senator, she attacked.

“Actually Mr. Natt I have a project I would like to speak to you about,” she started off, a tad mysterious, before letting her voice rose to a more playful tone “if you are ready to hear me drone for around ten minutes on a dreadful work-related topic, of course.”

He smiled, amused, and took a sip of wine before answering. “Oh, you got me intrigued there, Countess. Something involving Axxila?”

“If you are interested, it might.” She took a few sips as well, letting the anticipation build, then pursued. “Axxila, Sullust and Serenno are all located in the Outer Rim and as we both know, they unfortunately tend to shine a little duller than their sisters from the Core. I would like to correct this. I have been looking into ways to tighten our bonds and spread our respective knowledge, a way for our people to connect even light-years apart, and I might have an idea.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I spoke briefly with representatives from Talravin, Kuat and Corellia, and they would be willing to participate in a joint flight program with Sullust, Axxila and Serenno. This could allow us to offer a fuller curriculum on our own academies, but also to raise the overall standards in the galaxy.”

He frowned. “It seems promising, but aren't you afraid of the cost involved with this type of idea? Is it sustainable for us to work on the same standard as Core worlds?”

Understandable, Axxila was the poorest of them all, they weren't going to throw themselves into something that might ruin them. Anya had anticipated this answer. “If you are interested I can send you a draft proposal as well as the planned budget, funding solutions currently envisioned, and potential revenues. We will start meetings regarding this project next month on Coruscant, though some might attend by Holo.”

Callum nodded, visibly enthused. “I'll look into it. Many thanks, Countess Dooku, it is very kind of you to propose this type of opportunity to Axxila.”

She waved himself off elegantly, careful not to appear dismissive. “Do not sell yourself short Mr. Natt. Axxila's navy is reputed for the way they handle pirates and the quality of their pilots. You have as much to give as you have to gain, I believe.”

The senator smiled at her, flattered, and she knew he would study her proposal seriously. Good. The corellian senator had only agreed because he found her attractive and thought it was a good way to get closer to her, and the senator from Kuat was not her favorite of all, but Feng and the senator from Sullust she had visited before being introduced to the Senate had been genuinely interested, and Axxila seemed to fit right in with them.

He took his leave not too long after, his curiosity satisfied, and she did the same a few minutes later. Feng wanted to push her into going to some dreadful after opera diner, but it was already late and she was needed elsewhere.

She joined her chauffeur Gregor in front of the Opera after the customary greetings from her new “friend” group and wasted no time turning on her datapad.

As effortless as it sounded for Vader, it was actually quite hard to coordinate everything to provide for his wishes and needs while leaving no tracks implicating Serenno or herself. Especially with the ship thing. She had three different middlemen who she was never in direct contact with on long term contracts for all kind of smuggling. Getting a ship Vader would not be offended by but still anonymous enough to not get them caught and having his ridiculous costume delivered in it had been hard, but the kriffing mask had been the hardest.

She had to hire a bounty hunter to hunt the person who had made the command and stole it from them, and then another bounty hunter to stole it from the first one and deliver it to specific coordinates where a final hired aide had picked it up and transferred it to the ship. Hopefully, this would be the only real extravagance Vader would request because no matter how careful she was, this damned mask was Beskar, and Beskar tended to leave tracks. The only thing that made it tolerable, really, was the plan he had sent for it. Drew by hand, on flimsi, with notes in his endearing messy handwriting.

Anya kept it in her safe, next to her lightsaber, and she hated herself for it. Frivolity at its finest.

She sighed as she faced the penthouse she had bought near the Senate on the 1616 Galactica. Usually, this sort of apartment would have been reserved for a senator, but Anya was expected to be one soon enough and Serenno was a very rich and respected planet, so penthouse it was.

Her chauffeur bid her goodbye and she told him to pick her up at 0800 the next morning for the breakfast session of the Senate Committee for Intergalactic Relief. They had just finished their last funding campaign with a splendid gala and would be meeting for breakfast for a full week to discuss how and where they would allocate funding and organize relief missions this year.

The blonde entered the gigantic apartment and kicked her heels off immediately, savoring the feeling of her naked feet on the soft carpet of her living room, then shed her cloak and her dress on the ground before making her way to the refresher for a delightful evening bath. It was already ready, she had programmed it to run on the way back, so after dimming the refresher's lights to perfect the overall ambiance she slid immediately in the warm foamy water and let the bath salts work around her tight back and tense shoulders.

She was just starting to relax fully when her datapad rang from an unread HoloMail.

For Force's sake! Couldn't she get a minute for herself?

Annoyed, she grabbed one of the folded towels on the side of the enormous tub and dried her hands before reaching for the device. It was a request for an unofficial meeting from a Jedi, one she never met but had heard a ton of stories about. Qui-Gon Jinn. She replied directly to him, ejecting Fod out of the conversation loop, that she would be delighted to meet him for dinner the next day and that she was letting him figure out the place. Anya then went for dropping the datapad on the chair he was initially placed on when it rang again. She sighed and opened the new message. He agreed and told her he would pick her up at 1900 if she was comfortable with sharing her address. She wrote it down quickly, sent it to him, then put the device away before immersed herself completely under the water.

This was going to be complicated.

Qui-Gon was her uncle's favorite Padawan and his last one too, not counting her. He had probably felt hurt when his former Master left the Order, and she had no doubt he wanted to know how the old man was faring. Still, he was a Jedi, and he would not have reached out to her if he did not have the blessing of his Order. Attachments were heavily frowned upon, and clinging to his old Master would be considered as such. No, the Jedi had something else in mind outside of his concern for Dooku.

She would have to wing it because she had no idea of who truly was Qui-Gon Jinn. Her uncle spoke fondly of him, sometimes, but there was a difference between hearing amusing stories and actually meeting the man. Hopefully, whatever ulterior motive he had wasn't too damaging for their designs.

Now that she thought about it, it was weird to think that she was going to meet a soon-to-be-dead man. In one year and a half, he would be killed, leaving his Padawan heartbroken with a very young Anakin in his inept care. Her heart fluttered when she thought of how cute nine years old Anakin would be, and immediately dismissed the annoying feeling in the Force. She was pathetic!

It would be an interesting meeting for sure. Qui-Gon was according to Dooku one of the most unconventional Jedi out there, with a passion for living creatures of all shapes and forms, and a concerning habit of gifting people the weirdest things ever. She was curious to meet the man and assess him herself, he would be the first Jedi from the Order she would meet in this timeline. Quite the dinner plan, it would for sure distract her efficiently from Khan's own endeavors on Tatooine.

Worry seized her again and she dismissed it with the same frustration than the tenderness from before. Vader was the most powerful Force user she knew, probably the best one in the millennium. He would do fine, better than fine probably, and he certainly would mock her if he understood how anguished she was about his well-being. Attachment. Yan Dooku had warned her a couple of weeks ago, she had listened. And failed to apply his advice.

Anya sighed and let the tub drain. The peaceful moment had passed, and the water was cooling down.

She stepped out, dried herself with the white towels her cleaning droids folded in a spaceship shape for her because she had one day mentioned she missed traveling and then put on an equally white bathrobe before making her way down the stairs to her living room. She opened one of the large transparisteel windows and stepped outside on the balcony, watching the never-ending traffic and the brightly lit skyline of Coruscant. The air was lukewarm, as usual on the planet, and the echoes from the city seemed distant from her high viewpoint. She could see the Senate building the penthouse was conveniently close to and, further away, the high spires of the Jedi Temple.

Anya sighed, again. Nervous energy was buzzing in her veins, making her anxious and agitated. What if something went wrong? What if she messed up with Qui-Gon? What if Vader was defeated by Plagueis? They could not afford a mistake, not now. There were too new to this reality, their presence not yet anchored enough to resist the hurricane of problems it would cause.

“ _Sweet Anya, so kind, so trusting, so stupid...”_

“ _Maybe you need a reminder of who's in charge here!”_

“ _No one is going to save you Anya, ever.”_

She shivered violently and nearly felt the searing pain of electricity coursing through her. Spooked, she left the balcony, picked up her discarded clothes on the floor and put them in the laundry basket. She performed a couple more menial tasks, delaying the inevitable, before changing into a nightgown and heading for bed.

Inevitably, the cold laughter of Palpatine echoed in her mind, making her entire body tense. She proceeded with climbing under the covers and buried her face in her pillow with a tired sigh, trying to stop the memories from coming.

It was less frequent, nowadays. When she was still in jail it was the same circus every night, and even after coming back to the past the first few weeks, she could not stand still for five minutes without hearing his mad cackles and their mean comments. She still woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, drenched in sweat and with her teeth gritted so hard her jaw hurt for the following days, remembering the abuse they inflicted on her during the decades of her captivity.

She inhaled, blocked, exhaled, blocked, one time, two times, three times. It was not happening, it was over, she did everything she could for this not to happen again, Khan was here, with her, he would stop Palpatine if she didn't pick up during one of their scheduled calls, it was what they had decided. She was safe. She was okay.

Except Khan was not here, Khan was traveling to Tatooine to face the Sith Lord that taught Palpatine all he knew, with a significant chance for injuries or worse.

She was alone.

Anya curled on herself, feeling the guilt creep up. Was that why she was worried? Because if something happened to him, she was going to be alone again? How selfish could she be? She was disgusting, really, a pitiful creature. They had been right.

She cried a little, and none of her dreams were nice that night.

  
\----

Khan inhaled his first breath of Tatooine's air with mild disgust and no small amount of contempt. The gritty sand and scorching suns were no more pleasant than in his memories, and only the reminder of his goals stopped him from retreating inside the ship.

He had nearly landed in Mos Espa, drawn by the young Anakin bright presence in the Force, before correcting his trajectory and settling for Anchorhead. Once he was docked he paid a local to keep an eye on his ship without telling him that it had defense mechanisms and rented a piece of garbage that seemed a tad better than the rest of the speeders available before dumping his stuff in and heading toward the Eastern Dune Sea.

Darth Plagueis' presence was not very noticeable if you didn't know what you were looking for, lost in the midst of the inherent darkness carried by many on Tatooine and eclipsed by Anakin's supernova of young and pure Light, but Khan sensed him as clear as he could sense the suns burning the few centimeters of skin he had left uncovered. Sith always had a knack for tracking each other after all, and this Sith in particular was close to him in line, his Grand Master in a way. Once he was deep in the Dune Sea he grabbed his mask and moved it to the seat near him before pulling his hood back on his head. Perfect. The damn thing was hot.

The temple was semi-hidden in the sand near some high mountains that all locals knew to avoid. Krayt dragons nested there, and there were not reputed for being merciful. Khan hadn't encountered any yet, not that he feared them. He held an inadequate fondness for the beasts, born from a complex mixture of child-Anakin's awe at their sheer size and power, Jedi-Anakin's delight at their frequent deathly feeding raids on Tuskens and inclination for Djem So, and Vader's understanding of their sheer brutality and savage protectiveness when their own were attacked. He thought back to his first test with Lun Su-Li and smiled. What would he say if he came home with one of the temperamental reptiles?

He took the time to drink and eat what he brought on the speeder before entering the cave hiding the temple. Plagueis had probably sensed him by now and he could wait a few more minutes, especially considering how taxing fighting could be. The ration bar was melted and the water warm, but it didn't stop him. Once finished he buried the speeder under a dune of sand to keep it out of the prying hands of whoever would go there and put his mask back on.

Game on.

The old building reeked of the Dark side and when he passed the entrance he felt all the hairs on his body stand to attention as the Force started pulling at his ankles like a playful Lothwolf.

The first impression he got from it was that the Rakata had a poor taste for decor, a common theme across Force users it seemed. It was filled with broken statues of questionable taste and pillars engraved lavishly, an overall waste of resources especially considering that it only held old Dark side-infused technology and had been so forgotten that he as a Tatooine local had never heard of it until he was way into his Sith apprenticeship with Palpatine, in crumbly old tales that contained little truth and way too much pomp.

It was ironic that Plagueis hid there, an old ruin past his prime buried in a similarly decrepit cave.

He passed the first room and entered a bigger chamber with inactive Sith engravings on the walls. Darth Plagueis was there, his grayish skin somewhat loose around his unnaturally thin figure, draped in expensive silks, seated on an old chair and exuding an exasperated fondness for the impudent troubling his rest. He was drinking some fine alderaanian wine that seemed to come from a crate he kept near the table he was seated behind.

Was that all that he did all day? Spying on a little boy and drinking wine?

Retirement was not kind on anyone, it seemed. He blocked an image of Obi-Wan Kenobi doing the same decades later with his own son, watching him from afar while wallowing in guilt for failing his father.

Old fools.

He came closer to the table, the dim lights shining dully on his blood-red mask.

  
  


Plagueis studied him and laughed. “Revan? Really? A poor source of inspiration for a true Sith, my boy.”

  
  


Vader thought that on the contrary, it was a really good inspiration. After all, Revan had been one of the only Jedi turned Sith finding balance in the Force, and if the legends had any truth to them he was also extremely powerful both as a Jedi and as a Sith. Palpatine had mocked him occasionally, though not as often as he mocked his old Master or even Vader himself. Still, he had left a durable imprint on the galaxy and since he was determined to do the same, the mask seemed extremely appropriate. Plus, the Force loved these kinds of symbolism.

  
  


“Darth Plagueis,” he replied, his tone biting. “Hidden in a womprat hole on Tatooine while his apprentice lives a luxurious life on Coruscant. You don't strike me as a great inspiration for a Sith either.”

  
  


The other Sith just laughed again and took a sip of wine. Self-serving, arrogant, and convinced of his superiority. He didn't get a better impression from him than he got from the temple.

  
  


“The critic is easy when one is knowledgeable,” he rasped, his voice echoing in the cave. “I can't say I ever heard of another Sith roaming the galaxy. Since this is probably not a courtesy visit would you indulge an old Muun and tell me who you are, boy?”

  
  


Khan smiled cruelly under the mask. “Boy”. No wonder where Palpatine got the smooth talk from. He had expected some form of it. Plagueis hadn't been known for being a fighter and the Force was actively working against him, it was natural for him to try to get the advantage in other ways.

Two could play those types of games though. The mask was supposed to intrigue him and hide his identity on Tatooine. He was supposed to keep it on, that was the plan, but he was curious about his reaction, he wanted to know. It didn't matter in the end if Plagueis saw his face. He would not be alive to tell the tale anyway.

He unfastened it and dropped it in the black sand that covered the ground. It made surprisingly little noise but made him cringe internally. Sand was always so hard to remove from anything, it would take him hours to clean the mask to his liking.

  
  


Khan tilted his head on the side, faking curiosity. “Why? Don't you recognize your own creation?”

There, now the surprise was real. Plagueis took one look at his grayish-blue eyes and gorgeous face and drew a sharp breath. He knew. “Anakin Skywalker, it is you, it really is... But how?”

He raised a brow. “You played with life in your time as a Sith, is it so surprising to find others playing with time?”

“You became a Sith, as planned.” The Muun smiled, pleased.

“The Emperor of the galaxy, in my time,” Vader stated blankly, bored with that particular line of discussion already. “I never knew for sure if I was your doing or Sidious', though your presence on Tatooine confirm what I thought.”

Plagueis huffed, dismissive. “Sidious knows little of this power, he is just an Apprentice.”

  
  


The Sith promptly finished his glass of wine and rose on shaky legs, tipsy and amazed by his design. His eyes betrayed a hunger Khan was relatively sure he didn't like, his smile just a bit too wide, his presence in the Force invading his space like lukewarm dark oil. Soon he felt cold and clammy fingers tracing his broken nose and soft lips, passing over his cleft chin and powerful jawline, petting his dark hair. Darth Plagueis' wonder rang in the Force, loud, and the hunger grew.

  
  


“The most... beautiful... child,” he whispered, his breath smelling like wine and rot. “Yes, the Force far exceeded my expectations.”

  
  


Vader hid his disgust way better than Plagueis his pleasure. He marveled at his features for a couple of minutes, prodding him in the Force and sighing with delight when he let him feel the depth of his power. When he opened his yellow eyes again they were glistening with bliss.

  
  


“Truly exceptional. Your potential is astounding. But why would you reveal yourself to me?” he asked, his voice tinged with anguish. “Sidious would find a way to destroy you if he learned of your existence, he only leaves me in peace because he fears my power. I will do my best to protect the other Anakin, but I fear for your life, my child.”

  
  


Khan leaned in, disregarding the smell, and wrapped his powerful arms around the tall Muun in a false display of affection. He let his eyes turn gold again, the Dark energy suddenly flowing in him like a torrent of pure power and he met Plagueis' gaze again, smiling cruelly at the infatuated expression he could read on his old face.

  
  


“You know why, _Father_. I cannot let Sidious kill you and rip away your powers. As you said, he will soon seek to destroy me,” he replied smoothly, his voice velvet when his grip was iron.

  
  


The Sith seemed to realize what was happening and shakily gathered his power around him, but he was too weak and it was too late. Vader crunched the old Muun against him with the Force, feeling his ribs broke and his lungs gave out.

Soon, Plagueis was wheezing on the ground, trying in vain to catch a breath while his throat filled with blood, making him cough on the dark sand. He had not even reached for his lightsaber, refusing to pull the blade against his own design even under attack. Weak old fool.

  
  


“Farewell, Father.”

  
  


The Sith made a pitiful choking noise, spitting blood on his expensive robes, then slowly stopped moving, his eyes reverting to their original color. He needed to act quickly now.

Vader spat on the ground as well, repulsed with having called the Muun his father even ironically, then made a few steps in his direction and pulled out a hunting knife from his shoe. He pushed Plagueis on his back, pocketed his lightsaber, and ripped his robes apart before starting the carving. It was a disgusting affair, the gray flesh shining with fresh blood and revealing rotting organs and bones that were too white for their surroundings. Still, he kept going until the body was covered in Kittât runes before discarding his own clothing, that he neatly folded and placed on the table to avoid any coarse sand getting on them.

He plunged his hands deep inside Plagueis and traced a triangle around them before he started drawing on himself with the dead Sith blood, lips pursed in repugnance. He finished with three interlaced triangles on his chest before grabbing the knife again, cutting his way to his heart. It was still warm under his fingers when he seized it, surprisingly black and soft.

Khan held back a retch. He took a deep breath and began chanting in the ancient language of the Sith, feeling the symbols light up on both of their bodies, letting the lost words flow from his lips to request the powers of the enemy conquered, the wisdom of the master surpassed and the strength of the parent betrayed.

The Dark side chanted along with him, dancing around them like a cold black fire, singing his delight at being honored by the old ritual, celebrating the birth of his new Sith Master. It whispered in his ears all he wanted to hear, empty promises and useless oaths that sounded like pure truths in the madness of the ceremony. Vader kept chanting, repeating the words, ensnaring the darkness to make it his, to force it to do as he wished without letting it take one ounce of control over him.

Then he bit into the heart, swallowed a piece of the repulsive flesh, and blacked out.

\----

On Coruscant, Anya bit on her burger, annoyed when she felt some of the juice drip down her mouth. She wiped the offending liquid carefully with a napkin, very thankful that Qui-Gon had chosen this very moment to not look in her direction.

For an older male, Qui-Gon was hot.

After her awful night and an honestly quite bleak day she spent worrying about Khan, meeting with the Jedi was like taking a well-deserved break. He exuded a quiet serenity she envied, his Force presence rolling like gentle peaceful waves around him as he interacted kindly with every sentient that crossed their path on the way from her apartment to the diner he chose.

It was not a particularly nice place, but the food was good and the cook seemed to be a great friend of Qui-Gon. Plus, she would never complain about not having to eat at one of the very public high-class restaurants of Coruscant, where people would spy and speculate all night on her dinner partner.

She drank a bit from her Bantha milkshake and caught him glancing. He had not asked any significant questions yet, seemingly happy with meaningless small talk. It did nothing to lower her guard, though. She knew from her uncle of the Jedi's wit and had no doubts their evening was going exactly as he planned. Hot or not, he was not her ally, and she would not let his pretty hair and striking blue eyes distract her. At all.

Anya put down her nearly finished burger.

  
  


“I must confess I was surprised by your invitation. I didn't know the Jedi Order had any interest in me.”

  
  


False. They were interested in Yan Dooku, and she was supposed to be young and somewhat malleable enough to report on him. Or Qui-Gon just wanted genuine news on his master. In any case, it would have been surprising to see a real interest for her as a person. Sad truth.

She had commed her uncle earlier that day to tell him. He had just huffed with amusement and told her she was free to tell Qui-Gon Jinn whatever she wanted. He was quite fond of his old Padawan, despite everything that kept them apart at the moment, and she could tell he was flattered at Qui-Gon's attempt to get closer to him.

  
  


Qui-Gon smiled. “Curiosity. Master Dooku never talked much about his family, so when I heard his niece and last apprentice was on Coruscant working for the Senate, I jumped on the occasion.”

  
  


Anya took another sip from her drink. There were many good reasons for Dooku's silence regarding his family, none of them she felt comfortable sharing with the Jedi.

Their eyes met and she flushed for a second. Hot. She wanted to blame it on her hormonal teenage body, but it was probably the middle age lady brain in her that crushed on the Jedi Master. It was completely improper, especially considering she was still considered underage at the moment. Likewise, she would feel disgusted with herself for flirting shamelessly with people sharing her body's age, there were just kids and she was definitely not.

Her romantic life held little hope even before that anyway. At least she could enjoy the attractive man's company.

  
  


“And what would you want to know, Master Jinn?” She tried to sound sophisticated, but she probably squealed a tad.

“I'm afraid I don't have enough information to make an educated question, but I do wonder how you came to Coruscant.”

  
  


He smiled again and she felt the lightest caress of the Force against her tongue, urging her to tell the truth to this nice man with the shiny hair and the pretty blue eyes. She smiled herself, warding off his suggestion playfully as she thought about an appropriate answer.

  
  


“After my mother's death uncle Yan took me in and trained me. Eventually, I figured I could do more good for my people and the galaxy in general with politics than lightsabers, uncle Yan agreed, hence why I am in Coruscant.”

  
  


Half-truth, half-Bantha crap, or the truth from a certain point of view. Yan Dooku would found it disgraceful, but Anya had discarded a lot of her noble education while she stewed in her own blood in Palpatine's jail. To her great pleasure, Qui-Gon seemed to buy it, sipping his tea pensively while taking her in again with a new look in his eyes. Was it suspicion or understanding? She did not know the man enough to identify the sharp glint, she would have to be careful.

  
  


“That is very noble of you. I know few Jedi who would have given up their training to try to better the galaxy in other ways.”

Was it arrogant to mention it then? She really didn't want him to think she was gloating, she needed to do something! “To be fully honest, I was never convinced nor talented in the practical application of the Jedi arts. I suppose it takes away from the nobility of my actions.”

  
  


Qui-Gon chuckled and she could read the mirth on his face. He seemed a touch more relaxed now, probably satisfied with her explanations and understanding the subtext she tried to convey in the Force for him to pick up. She was a disappointment to her uncle, a useless Apprentice he had to cast away to other endeavors once she revealed the depth of her inadequacies. Not completely true, nor untrue.

  
  


“He is a severe teacher, but I held fond memories of my time as his Padawan,” he replied, politely refraining from digging his claws in the wound she just exposed to him.

Anya smiled. “I can imagine, while he can be firm he certainly has his moments.”

  
  


She thought back to their last hug and couldn't repress a wave of warm affection. Qui-Gon seemed to feel it too and gave her a knowing smile before starting to retell one of the many adventures he shared with Count Dooku in his younger years, one involving a very humid planet, an unruly Wookie, a nest of carnivorous birds, and a very distracted Padawan.

Anya laughed, a lot, drank an entire other milkshake, and told her fair share of interesting stories on her uncle too. The Jedi was great company, frankly one of the few genuinely pleasant people she had met since arriving on Coruscant, and she had a great deal of fun.

Maybe he could be a friend? She knew her uncle would not object, but was unsure of Vader.

Vader!

Was he alive? Was it done? She hoped he wasn't injured or worse, she would never be able to look at herself in a mirror if he died alone on kriffing Tatooine while she was stuffing her face with a Jedi Master.

  
  


“Are you feeling well Anya?” he asked, frowning in concern.

Using her first name? Lovely. She blushed like the teenager she was supposed to be and lowered her gaze. “Yes, sorry, I just ate a bit too much.”

“It's getting late anyway, I should drive you home.”

“Thank you, Qui-Gon,” she replied, the name rolling on her tongue beautifully. Was there even one ugly thing about him?

  
  


He smiled, paid and they bid their goodbye to the cook before heading out.

Anya was just about to climb on his speeder when she heard someone called Qui-Gon. The tall man turned, visibly a bit surprised, and the young legislator startled.

Obi-Wan Kenobi. Older than her by a few years but still young, Padawan braid and all, with warm auburn hair and severe blue-gray eyes, looking like a betrayed puppy. Qui-Gon gave him an awkward smile, why? Was it their place? Did they usually come here together? Was that how Kenobi found them?

She pinched her lips to hide a small mocking smile as Kenobi walked towards them, his eyes full of steel and his mouth down-turned. He wore his heart on his face, quite clearly, and right now, he looked supremely unhappy.

  
  


“Master, fancy seeing you here,” he stated icily.

  
  


To her, it was unclear what he was the most unhappy about, but looking at Qui-Gon wincing under the cold words, he had a perfect idea of what was the cause of his Padawan's anger, and he thought he deserved it.

Did he really come without a push from the Council?

The thought was heartwarming, especially considering the agreeable evening they had. She kept another smile, gentler, from her lips as Qui-Gon seemed to regain his footing.

  
  


“Padawan Kenobi. It is quite late for you to be wandering outside the Temple,” he replied, his voice as calm as ever.

Obi-Wan raised a haughty brow. “I was looking for you. I didn't know you had... Plans.”

  
  


Obi-Wan looked at her head to toe, gaze harsh, arms crossed on his chest. Taking in the simple but elegant cut of her kimono jacket, the silky material of the blouse beneath, the austere cloak she wore on top of it all and the expensive headpiece that kept her blonde hair away from her face. It was a very simple outfit compared to what she usually wore during her official functions, closer to how she dressed when she was still Dooku's apprentice really, but it still screamed luxury. He looked at her face and visibly decided that he did not like what he saw. His eyes hardened and he scowled at Qui-Gon, demanding explanations.

  
  


“Obi-Wan Kenobi is my current Padawan. Padawan Kenobi this is Countess Anya Dooku, my former Master's niece.”

  
  


Obi-Wan recoiled and looked at her again with a different look. The surprise dulled his previous hostility and he greeted her politely. She did the same, knowing from this moment that Obi-Wan Kenobi was never going to be her biggest fan.

Not that she cared too much. Obi-Wan was a great Jedi, but from what Khan had told him his inability to stray from the Code and his self-righteous attitude had been one of the many factors leading him to find solace in Palpatine. She remembered his retelling of the battle of Mustafar, the state of Vader's body when she removed the suit before they came back in time and shuddered, glancing at the Padawan without any warmth. He was everything she disliked about the Jedi, a paragon of hypocrisy and semi truths. Well, not yet, maybe, but he would be.

  
  


“I need to bring Countess Anya home before heading back to the Temple, do you want to come or do you prefer walking?” There was an edge to Qui-Gon's words, but it was definitely something meant for his Padawan only and she couldn't quite place it.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “I'll come.”

  
  


They climbed in the speeder and took off in the direction of her apartment. The atmosphere was a bit cold but Qui-Gon Jinn made engaging small talk and when they finally arrived on her landing pad she had partially relaxed and Obi-Wan seemed to had regained a Jedi composure.

She bid them goodbye, thanking Qui-Gon for the nice evening and he made her promise to do it again sometimes. Obi-Wan bristled a bit, huffing something about improper Jedi behavior, but Anya smiled and told him that he now had her direct HoloMail address and that she would be pleased to meet up with him again, maybe with her uncle if he was on Coruscant.

Qui-Gon nodded, waved and they left.

Anya immediately dropped her smile and reached for her comm unit, desperate to see if Khan had left her a message. Nothing.

He should have landed on Tatooine eight hours ago and he knew the area quite well. What was taking him so long? Was he hurt? He had promised to comm her as soon as he was done. This was worrying.

She took a quick shower, put on some sleep clothes and crashed on her bed, trying to distract herself with a catchy Holodrama on incredibly handsome royals fighting each other for inheritance after the murky disappearance of their grandmother. It didn't work half as well as spending the evening with her new Jedi friend, but she ended up falling asleep anyway, plagued by uneasy dreams of sand dunes and dangers.

\----

Khan would classify his stay on Tatooine as weird.

After being swallowed and spit out viciously several times by the Dark side, losing and regaining consciousness without truly understanding everything that was happening to him, he had been granted ascension to the title of Sith Master. The Force had crooned, telling him of all the great things he would be able to do if he accepted to use his dark powers to their full extent if he took the mantle. It whispered of apprentices, of ancient knowledge and curses buried deep below the surface of forgotten planets. In a way, it educated him.

When he finally woke up after several hours of Dark side-induced trance, he was naked, shivering, covered in blood, and simultaneously exhausted and filled to the brim with dark energy. He staggered a bit around the temple and found a room with a sonic shower that cleaned him of most of the gore before he went back to the main chamber to decide what to do with the body.

He was tempted to just leave it there to rot, but it would not be wise to have Palpatine discover the trace of the ritual, and some part of him felt strangely guilty at the idea of not honoring the death of his pseudo father. Plagueis hadn't fought, after all, and what he had seen in him in the minutes before his death had reminded him of what he himself had probably looked like for Luke at the time. He had let himself be killed by his offspring, just as Vader at the time would have let Luke kill him for his faults.

When he had consumed Plagueis' heart he had been thrown into some of the memories he held dear. He had seen a younger Palpatine, eager and gifted, a Bith Master that bred him for success and a lot of Anakin Skywalker. He hadn't realized at the time how much the Sith had involved himself in his destiny, picking his mother carefully out of all of Gardulla's slaves for her higher number of midi-chlorians, influencing the Hutt to lose a bet to Watto to keep them away from her vicious tortures and checking on them often, making sure Anakin was fed regularly and had a pleasant enough childhood. He had saved him during one of his worst podrace crashes, using the Force to stop him from colliding head first with the tan walls of a canyon.

Anakin had never understood why Palpatine had been so interested in him, the old man had mocked the Chosen One prophecy enough to dismiss it as a valid reason, and when they met he was just a Force-sensitive slave child with no manners.

Now he understood. Plagueis had spent so much time watching him grow he had attracted the attention of his apprentice. Palpatine had been intrigued by the child created by his Master, and after killing Plagueis and ripping his knowledge from him he must have decided to get Anakin for himself.

Khan shook his head and put his clothes and mask on again before levitating the body outside. He then picked up some fuel from the speeder's tank and set Plagueis' corpse on fire, watching him burn rapidly under the twin suns.

The stench was terrible during the first minutes, mixtures of burnt flesh and speeder fuel, clogging his nose and his lungs. Eventually though, the ashes flew in the wind, mixing with the sand until the only things remaining of Plagueis' stay on Tatooine were alderaanian wine bottles and crates of dubiously appetizing foods hidden in a decrepit Sith Temple.

The entire process took a few hours, but he couldn't bring himself to move until he was sure Palpatine would never be able to identify any remains. He was just about to leave when the ground trembled around him. Suspicious, he turned towards the mountains and smiled.

A greater Krayt dragon.

The beast had faded black scales, glowing gold eyes and measured at least a hundred meters from his elegantly murderous snout to his spiky tail. Lovely creature. He took one look at his head crowned by four imposing and sharp spikes and decided he would name him The Devastator, like his previous ship. It stopped not that far from him, probably because he was surprised he did not run away like a spooked Tooka. Khan reached out through the Force, grimacing at his tainted Force signature, and felt the beast reach out in return. Its mind evaded him, but he felt emotions and intent. Respect for the Dark presence, need to guard the temple, need to guard him?

 _Come._ He heard.

Khan followed, taking his speeder to match the considerable speed of The Devastator. The dragon seemed to nearly swim in the sand, his legs never fully visible. He dragged him to the North of the Eastern Dune Sea, toward a place he only heard about in legends. A Krayt Graveyard. It was filled with semi-submerged bones of various sizes of Krayt dragons. The place had an ominous feel, though he wasn't particularly afraid. The dragon had been pretty cordial, and he could not sense any ill intent, only a will to protect, to guard. Strange.

It growled, requesting his attention. It had seated near a carcass that seemed not quite as ancient as the others. Its mate? Its parent? Its child? He tentatively asked in the Force, seeking understanding. The dragon replied with impressions rather than words, it didn't have its own language, though its intelligence was remarkable. There was a feeling of protection, a first roar after coming out of the egg, the burning feeling of the suns on their scales as they hunted in the mountains and pain, then unbearable, bone-deep pain. A child then, attacked by Tuskens. He replied with understanding and the dragon whined a bit pitifully before touching the corpse with its snout.

_Take. Guard._

Khan marched towards the fallen dragon, unaffected by the putrid smell of decomposition after spending hours smelling Plagueis burn, and saw something glimmer inside of the open belly.

_Yours._

He stepped on the rotting entrails, making his way inside the dragon until he reached the shimmering glint he saw earlier. A pearl. A greater Krayt dragon pearl. He took it and wiped it of the black decomposing matter that covered it with his cloak. The pearl was black, with a hint of brownish-red glow. It shone brightly against the twin suns, filled with power. Holding it felt right, perfect, and he knew at this instant that he had found the first part of a new lightsaber. His. Not Anakin's, not Vader's, but His in a way kyber crystals lightsabers never were.

The dragon purred in agreement and he felt a last bit of impressions before the creature took its leave. It would be guarding the Temple, and the pearl will guard him.

Khan climbed into the speeder, spreading rotting Krayt dragon flesh and sand all over the floor, then took off in another direction, towards his ship, towards Anchorhead.

The experience left him at least as shaken as the absorption of Plagueis' powers. He felt drained now, and also very confused. He knew the dragons were attracted to areas strong in the Dark side and tended to keep guard around ancient Sith artifacts, but he had never heard even one tale about a Krayt dragon behaving as The Devastator had. Was it his presence, all glowing with the Dark side in the aftermath of the ritual that attracted it to him? That triggered his instincts for protection?

Did the dragon think of him as some kind of walking Sith Temple?

The return trip seemed quick as he lost himself in his reflections. The dragon had gifted him his child's pearl, told him the pearl would guard him. Against what? Did it understand his own history with Tuskens raiders? Had it felt the ritual itself? Understood what Vader had done to Plagueis? Did it misunderstand the funeral pyre for the mourning cry of a son now alone in the world? What did it see when their minds connected that pushed him to offer such a priceless gift to a mere human?

Would he ever know?

He returned the speeder and convinced the guy not to overcharge him for the disgusting mess he left inside with a quick mind trick, then went back to his ship. It was unsurprisingly surrounded by dead Jawas, the little beasts probably wanted to take it apart and the local he paid had been completely surrounded. It was good to know that the security systems were working fine, he would have hated having to comm Anya for a second ship, he could only guess how tough it was for her to even get one.

He barely had the time to open the ramp before he heard a loud rumble. He got inside the ship, raced toward the cockpit, and saw a Sandcrawler charging right at him. Kriff!

Khan gritted his teeth and started the launch sequence, prepping the ship for take-off. Slow. Too slow. The Sandcrawler stopped and he felt the first impact on the ship. No, no, no this was not good. Jaw clenched, he calmed himself and considered his options. Getting outside again would be stupid, he should focus on defending the ship, on obliterating the Jawas from the inside. The ship had guns but they could only be activated when flying, and the defense mechanism didn't work on long distances. As long as he was on the ground, he was his only defense.

He smirked. Fine by him. He never needed anyone else anyway.

He let himself glide in the Force once more, feeling the rough and gritty energy scorching his veins, still tainted by his previous actions. He bit his lip until blood came out, focusing on the pain to bend the monster roaring inside of him into a productive tool. Then, once the power was harnessed, he looked at the Jawas vehicle and a sickening crunch rattled his bones, making his teeth vibrate.

The Sandcrawler shrunk and shrunk and shrunk, compressed by his immense power. He could hear the screams of the creatures, their desperate pleas for mercy as their blood sipped through every crack of it, flowing in the sand like a macabre rainstorm.

There was no mercy for those who attacked his ship.

A loud beep and the sound of motors activated distracted him long enough to tame the Dark side, putting it back in its cage. The ship was ready to take off. He proceeded immediately, rising through the air with his usual precision, and was about to cross the atmosphere when a strange desire pushed him in another direction.

They were alive, right now, alive and as well as slaves could be, and he could see them, and he could see his mother because she was still alive and she would not recognize him but it would not matter because she was still alive!

He felt his heart clench.

If she knew what he had done, she would be so disappointed! He could already see it, her amazing dark eyes filled with pain, with grief over her son lost, so long lost to the Dark side. And little Anakin would cry in front of his future self, disgusted that this was his destiny, traumatized by the stench of blood and the golden eyes of Khan Vaner.

Luke had given his life for nothing, he had returned to the Dark side like an obedient dog, weak, lost without his Master.

His fist clenched and he heard the darkness's syrupy voice in his ears, pleased, so pleased. Did it even matter what they thought? Weren't they the ignorant fools for dismissing the power he wielded? Didn't they deserve to die as the Jawas for the pain they caused him in the first place?

He shook his head. He could never, he would NEVER!

He forced himself into some deep breaths, filling his mind with the memories of his mom, so sweet, so caring, so brave, of Luke, so pure, untainted, so kind, and of himself, innocent boy who swore he would visit each planet in the galaxy and free the slaves, free his mom.

In the black durasteel of the cockpit, he saw his eyes turn blue, the yellow and gray flecks receding, barely muting the gorgeous color.

Khan gritted his teeth together again, regaining full control of himself. He pushed the Dark side back, kicked himself out of the murky dark waters, and drew a first breath of something better. He could hear the bird crying, singing about hope and new beginnings and balance. He shivered, once, twice, and reached a stage of temporary stability.

Suddenly it felt like all the fatigue accumulated during his stay caught up to him. He felt drained, exhausted, his bones aching and his brain screeching at him to let it go to sleep. He was not done, though.

He steered the ship to Mos Espa, landing in a mess of sand and dust. Once the parking fee was paid he decided for a shower, a true one this time, and removed his nasty clothes before hopping in the refresher. The water spray felt divine, soothing as the grime and blood and sweat dripped down from his tired body. He washed his tired body thoroughly with a ridiculously flowery scented soap that whoever equipped the ship saw fit to provide, probably because they were expecting someone like Anya to use it and not a dirty Sith Master covered in Krayt dragon's entrails who definitely did not enjoy smelling like some intriguing courtesan. Still, it did the job. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes, debated for a time between mask or no mask, settled for the mask after a thorough cleaning to remove the black sand out of it, and got out of his ship again to the familiar sight of Mos Espa.

It was mid-morning and the town was buzzing with activity. His clean clothes and tall stature got him some looks but the mask was intimidating enough that no street vendor tried to lead him astray. He had a purpose, anyway, and the comfortable weight of the pearl in his pocket had given him a wonderful idea to sneak a peek inside his old life without being a complete creep.

He would find parts for his new lightsaber.

Part of him was deeply unhappy to do so at Watto's shop, but he couldn't help but recognize the action as a loop closing, as Khan finally putting behind him his distaste for his modest origins and embracing who he was and what made him. Even if it included a rather rude slave-owning Toydarian.

The saber would be one symbolizing his rebirth and the acknowledgment of his flaws. It would not be a Sith saber, there would be no bleeding or synthetic crystal. It would not be a Jedi saber, with an Illum crystal and mental test to get to it. No, it would be his lightsaber, bold and unpredictable, powerful, powered by the spirit of the dragon and forged from the shackles of his youth. It would be perfect.

He knew the road by heart, of course, and felt his heart clench somewhat painfully in his chest when he passed the door and recognized the run-down shop. He paused at the counter, looking around for what he needed. He could see some power cells he could use, and an isolator from a broken Corellian YT-1800 repulsor that would add grip to his future hilt. Circuits were spread everywhere in different piles of mess, he could use some, and the spare parts he harvested from Plagueis' lightsaber would provide him with the rarer emitter matrix and blade emitter. He just lacked a good hilt. Plagueis' would not do, outside of the fact that he did not want to use more of his saber than was strictly necessary, the Muun had been way taller than him and the hilt was way too long for his preference. He would have to find one here.

Watto came flying around too quickly for his liking. He felt his nervosity, hidden under copious layers of pride and stubbornness.

  
  


“What is your business here, off-worlder?”

Khan smiled under his mask and replied in Huttese. “I am looking for parts.”

The Toydarian flew closer, eyes glinting with greed. “Ship's repairs?”

“Not exactly.”

  
  


He grabbed the pieces he saw earlier and put them on the counter, not particularly concerned by the odd look Watto was giving him. He was not wrong, the parts did not fit any common design and had little use alone. His use of Huttese had disconcerted him, and he seemed at least a bit bothered by the mask. Good. He put down some of his credits next to the parts without waiting for Watto's price and saw the blue alien looking greedily over his decently filled pocketbook.

  
  


“That's a bit low for the whole, mandalorian.”

“I have a last part I need, but I don't see anything fitting here. If you can find me something of interest, I will give you more. If not I will look elsewhere,” he stated coldly, voice distorted by the mask's vocoder.

  
  


Watto rubbed his chin for a minute before his eyes suddenly started shining brighter. He had something. Something he believed Khan would want. What could it be? Watto had always collected weird treasures that he did not keep in the main room. Anakin had spent hours looking at the faulty weapons and extremely rare ship parts, wondering where they came from and what was their history. Sometimes they whispered to him, sharing echoes of their past, but he could not remember anything noteworthy enough for it to sway his actual self.

  
  


“Ani!”

  
  


A tiny boy appeared. Barely eight, bowl cut, blue eyes, and round cheeks covered in engine grease. Khan felt his chest collapse on itself at the sight, flashes of past memories troubling his mind as the child came forward to see what Watto needed.

  
  


“Go pick up the thing in the back room,” Watto growled. “Third cabinet from the left, the shiny one.”

  
  


He tossed a magnetic key-card to Anakin who caught it and ran up the stairs towards the room in question. Khan furrowed his brow, confused. Watto seemed even more smug than usual and nearly put his hand on his shoulder. Stopping at the last moment, perhaps feeling his sheer hostility, he reconsidered and settled for flying around him and babbling about the quality of his parts compared to other shops in Mos Espa.

Anakin came back soon, carrying what looked like a small sword with an awed look on his face.

Watto pointed him toward Khan who lowered himself slightly before grabbing the weapon from the child's hands, shivering at the contact. Anakin looked intimidated, prompting him to release a wave of reassurance in the Force before he thanked him for his delivery. The kid smiled and his heart missed a beat. Such a pure soul with such a cruel destiny... Maybe he could try, this time, to make his life a bit easier? To support Anakin and make sure he didn't cross the line too soon. Maybe.

He looked at the weapon for a split second and knew it was the right hilt. The mandalorian vibroblade was beautiful, shimmering under the shop's lights. Beskar. Now that he had it under his eyes a vague memory of him trying to cut into his leg with the vibroblade to remove his slave's chip emerged. It had been useless, painful, and his mom had cried. The only time Watto had whipped him. Khan caressed the glinting metal with a careful touch. Yes, this one would do perfectly well.

  
  


“I take it.”

Watto rubbed his hands, not even bothering with hiding his greedy smile. “It would not be cheap, mandalorian.”

“Announce your price.”

  
  


They bartered for long minutes, Watto demanding, unsurprisingly, an indecent amount for the blade, but eventually came to a compromise. He paid, Watto emitted something resembling a purr that made him uncomfortable past his usual limits and he was about to take his leave when the Toydarian ordered Anakin to help him carry the parts to his ship. That was cruel, to have the child so close to a mean of escape knowing he could not do anything because he would be blown to pieces before they even reached hyperspace. Khan discreetly broke a few expensive things his younger self could not be blamed for destroying in retaliation before heading out with Anakin.

He was talkative, and overall quite pleasant company. How exactly did he come to lose the social skills he obviously had in abundance during his childhood? Probably the Jedi influence, the stoic space monks had tried their best to turn him into the perfect little coruscanti Padawan, discouraging his open nature. Idiots. They could take Anakin out of Tatooine, but they could not take his tatooinian roots away from him.

Khan felt more than a little emotionally unhinged, probably because of his very recent deep dive into the Dark side and the present company of young Ani, and when he heard his stomach grumble beside him his heart shattered. He could not do nothing, poor child, the boy probably hadn't eaten since the previous evening. A wave of compassion washed over his mind, cleaning some of the dark stains that remained, and made him wonder. Was it really compassion, the value so dear to the Jedi, if he was doing something for himself, or was it selfishness at its highest level?

He stopped at a stand and grabbed two Bantha skewers before handing one to the boy who looked at him with surprised delight.

  
  


“For helping me,” he droned, secretly embarrassed.

Anakin beamed. “Thank you very much, sir!”

  
  


Khan smiled, knowing the child could feel it through the Force, and ruffled his blond hair. Anakin gave him a semi irritated look and put his locks back in place before biting gleefully into the juicy meat, clearly enjoying the treat. The skewers, especially the ones from that particular stand, had been a favorite of his in his youth, when he could still eat. Clearly, it was still the case.

He used the little boy's distraction to slid his own meat under his mask quickly and savored the unique earthy taste for himself. Yes, still a favorite, and definitely tasting better than-.

No, absolutely not, he was _not_ going to let his thoughts take that path.

They were near the spaceport, not that far from his old house when they were interrupted.

  
  


“Ani? What are you doing here?” a worried voice asked.

“Watto asked me to help his client carry his parts to his ship mom, I swear I'm not in trouble this time!”

  
  


Khan turned and felt his breath stop for a few seconds. His mother was there. Long brown hair braided in a tight bun on her nape, kind but firm dark eyes and an amused smile at her son's words. He fought against himself so hard it felt his bones were trembling as he struggled to stay in place and not drag her into sappy and probably humid hug. She would not understand, it would scare her, it was not right.

His throat was tight and his eyes burned as he recalled how broken she had been, beaten by the Tuskens, dying in his arms while professing her love one last time. He dismissed the dark memory, trying instead to engrave in his brain how she looked now, fierce and gentle and alive, so, so alive!

Anakin had fewer qualms than he did and hugged his mom when she came in range. She noticed the skewer in his hand and frowned, concerned.

  
  


“Ani, where did you get this from?” she whispered, gesturing towards the food.

The boy smiled proudly. “Mr mandalorian got it for me to thank me for helping.”

  
  


He was so cute it melted his heart, but Shmi was now suspicious. Khan would have to head back to the ship soon, she was not his mom here, and to her, he was a creepy masked man who bought her precious son some food to convince him of Sith-knows-what. A threat, albeit a minor one, considering she had her youngling by her side at the moment.

He saw her look carefully at his tall frame and nice clothes, trying to guess if he was a warrior or just some random rich guy from the Core.

  
  


“I'm Shmi Skywalker,” she said, voice firm, spine straight.

“A pleasure.” he croaked, saved once again by his vocoder. “I'm Khan.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, suspicion visible in her eyes again. It hurt. “Thank you for the food. It is very kind of you.”

“It's of no consequence. Your son has been quite the help.”

  
  


She smiled warily, unconvinced, and her distrust dug a bleeding hole in his gut. It was harsh, even if it was justified, to see her so distant from him. Trying to reassure her, he hid his distressed sigh and told her the spaceport was close and she could join them for the rest of the walk.

Her unease seemed to decrease after that and she agreed with a smile. Anakin proceeded with a complete recount of what happened in Watto's shop before telling her that he intended to work on his podracer in the evening to prepare for the next race. Shmi worried about him quietly, telling him to be careful, to stay safe. Khan swallowed heavily but remained silent. She was the one who should stay safe, who should be careful. He did not want to lose her, not in this timeline, not after he just got his first glance at her.

They arrived at his docking pad way sooner than he wanted. He opened the ramp, hiding another sigh with the noise, and loaded the crate of parts and the blade in his ship. Little Anakin was clearly very impressed and asked with a small voice if he could have a look at the inside. Shmi was about to say no when Khan agreed with a shrug, using the Force to quickly dissimulate the two lightsabers that he had left in the cockpit.

He remained with Shmi on the ramp while the child went exploring, smiling at his exclamations of delight when he saw something particularly interesting.

  
  


“You have made his day, Mr. Khan,” she said gently, “Anakin loves ships.”

“He seems like a nice boy.”

She hummed in assent, and a grateful smile stretched her lips. “I'm very lucky to have him. He is like a ray of sun.”

  
  


Khan couldn't respond, too distraught by her words. He could feel tears forming in his eyes at his mother's kind words and had to release an extreme amount of feelings in the Force to keep his control in place and not crumble before her. His sight blurred, throat trembling with the beginning of a sob, but he held tight and the moment passed.

  
  


Anakin appeared not so long after, out of breath after running wildly across the ship. He stopped in front of Khan and gave him a smile so bright it could make the suns feel dim. “Your ship is amazing Mr. Khan! “

“Thank you, Anakin.”

  
  


Shmi bowed her head and told them she and Anakin should head back or Watto would get impatient. Anakin bid his goodbye to him, eyes sparkling with mirth. Khan was way too close to hug them both to be safe and settled for a nod to Shmi and a quick salute to Anakin who replicated it with a laugh before taking off. Shmi gave him an apologetic look then walked after him, reprimanding him for running in the busy streets.

He looked at them a moment then closed the ramp and went back to the cockpit, launching the starting sequence of the ship with a sigh.

It felt like parting ways with ghosts, but it left him more at peace than he had been in a long time. It was a sign that he could change things, that those terrible events he endured did not have to happen. Anakin could stay a happy little boy this time around, he could keep his mom, he could stay in the Light, shining like a tiny sun and making everyone around him as happy as Shmi was when she looked at him.

His heart clenched as he entered hyperspace, making the first of his jumps toward Talravin, toward a brighter future, if he played his cards well.

  
  



	5. Dead men tell no tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence

  
  
  


### Chapter 5: Dead men tell no tales

  
  


Anya finally received a comm from Khan a few hours into her evening, three days after their last communication.

She had been busy scheduling her first relief mission during the Senate break to Bothawui, a usually temperate Mid Rim planet known for its activity in information trafficking who had been, and perhaps would be, notoriously neutral in the Clone Wars. She was to be sent there with tech supplies needed to face the current ice age episode the planet was experiencing. It was not much really, and the shield generators they were to deliver were not nearly sufficient to cover the entire planet, but the senator from Bothawui had assured her that they would be able to replicate the technology quickly and that it was sufficient.

He was a nice and well-mannered Bothan, with dark brown fur and a sharp tongue when he wanted to. She had, so far, appreciated his company and his keen sense of humor. He would be accompanying her on the trip and she was honestly looking forward to it.

She was just reviewing the final version of the agenda they put together via HoloMail exchanges earlier that day when she heard the characteristic ring of her comm unit. Her pulse racing, she dropped her datapad and initiated the connection, nerves dripping with worry and joy.

  
  


“Hello, Anya.”

  
  


He looked surprisingly good for someone who just went off-grid for three consecutive days. He also appeared to be comming her from the apartment on Talravin. A mixture of disappointment and light betrayal churned in her stomach and soured her mood. Did he forget about her? So much for the “I 'll call you as soon as it is done” thing!

  
  


“I assume your trip took an interesting turn?” she replied icily.

  
  


He flinched, and she smiled, satisfied. She could feel a hint of guilt through their bond, the link powerful enough to allow her some impressions when they were talking even via comm. He knew he kriffed up.

  
  


“I eliminated Plagueis and burned the body.”

She raised an accusing brow. “It did not take you three days.”

“No. I had a couple of interesting adventures afterward,” he said, voice laced with emotions she could not place.

“Pray tell,” Anya asked, intrigued despite her hurt feelings.

  
  


He shared what happened with Plagueis, then the dragon, the merry Jawa massacre and finished with his encounter with his family on Mos Espa. She felt various emotions from him as he recounted his tale, and in the background a more intimate story took shape.

He had been marked by his stay, swayed from his original plans. His encounter with Plagueis, seeing so much of his past self unhealthy parental obsession in the Sith had shaken him to his core, amplified by the absorption ritual he undertook afterward to stole the Master's powers. Seeing his mother and younger self had equally rattled him, even if it was in a much more positive way. He had needed some time afterward, alone with his thoughts, to compose himself again and clarify his goals.

He told her of his intentions of saving his mother, of trying to be there with Anakin as he grew up at the Temple. He wanted to keep the boy happy, even if it went against their original schemes of staying away as much as possible from his younger self.

  
  


She wasn't particularly enthusiastic about it. “It will be delicate, Khan. The Jedi might grow suspicious of you if you spend an inadequate amount of time with him, and Palpatine will notice.”

His jaw was clenched, and his gaze determined. He would not back down. “I'm aware of the technicalities, but I also remember what it was like.” He softened, and continued, “Anya he will need to have someone there, someone who will treat him as a little boy taken away from his family and not some sort of emotional bomb to be handled with coldness and calm.”

“And you want Luke. You miss your child, you regret not having known about him sooner, and you think being there for Anakin will help you heal,” she deduced from the tangled mass of emotions he radiated. “I understand.”

Khan frowned, displeased at the breach of intimacy. “I hate when you do that.”

“It's true then?”

“Partially,” he admitted coldly, still rattled by her statement.

Unwilling to provoke him further, she decided to switch topic for something she hoped to be a little less sensitive. “I met your original father figure. I am greatly unimpressed.”

Khan scowled and she smirked before sipping the gatalentan tea she had made earlier. “Obi-Wan? Why would you meet with him?”

“Qui-Gon Jinn invited me to dinner, he wanted to have news from my uncle. Obi-Wan caught him just after.”

“Where did he take you?”

“Didi's cafe, I think it is becoming Dex's diner soon.”

He smirked. “Oh. It was our spot during my Padawan years. I guess Obi-Wan got the address from Qui-Gon. I would have been quite pissed if he took a girl there too.”

She chuckled. “Come on! I'm not even of age in this body, whatever idea he had was obviously far-fetched.”

  
  


It would have worked perfectly if she had not blushed like an enamored school girl. He felt he flustered state through the bond and his eyes glinted with humor.

  
  


“You like him,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't repress a small smile. “He is exceedingly nice, and I do have a thing for long-haired men.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“He asked, and I want to. I was thinking of involving uncle Yan though.”

“It would be expected,” he agreed.

“I don't think Sidious has his full cooperation yet, in my memories he wasn't completely brainwashed until after Qui-Gon's death,” she added tentatively, unable to quiet her tongue.

  
  


The thought had been plaguing her since Dantooine, her uncle's betrayals had been the subject of long ruminations during her imprisonment, and with time she had twisted the truth of who he was into something darker, her ability to forgive him poisoned by Palpatine's words and the long years of suffering she had endured. Seeing him, speaking with him, and getting a taste of his personality again, she couldn't help but wonder if he could still be saved.

  
  


“Because he had no anchor left?” Khan asked, unconvinced.

She nodded. “He learned from his friend Sifo-Dyas that Qui-Gon had identified Darth Maul as a Sith. The Council did not believe him and sent him back to Naboo without reinforcements. Palpatine had him ordered the assassination of Sifo-Dyas not long after to get his hands on the clone army. With his last two Jedi friends dead I think he drowned. He was never the same afterward.”

“That's when he betrayed you too?” His words were harsh, and she flinched.

“That's when he locked me up on Serenno, yes. I think he told his master the truth a lot later, toward the end of the Clone Wars.”

Khan huffed, indifferent to the pain he probably didn't understand in her voice. “He was getting desperate. He wanted to stay relevant. Pathetic.”

She lowered her gaze. “We all have our flaws.”

  
  


Khan still held no warmth for her uncle, and she could not really blame him. It wouldn't stop her from dreaming of saving him from his dangerous journey through the Dark side, even if she held little hope for his redemption.

They ended the call shortly after discussing her uncle. She still had work to do regarding her Bothawui mission and Khan had classes the next day and wanted to go to sleep.

She took the time to send a short HoloMessage to Yan Dooku, informing him that her dinner with Qui-Gon went well and that he was extending the invitation to him if they managed to be all on Coruscant at the same time. She then went back to planning until it was too late for her to stay focused on the task at hand and retreated to her bedroom.

They would need to meet in person at some point to be able to adjust their plots to the recent changes. She would also need to finalize her current ploy to obtain a very good reason to start communicating officially with Khan and justify hiring him after he finished school.

Anya sighed and sent a request to Fod to schedule a meeting once she got back from Bothawui with the Galactic Flight Academy team. They needed to move forward a tad faster if everything was to be ready on time.

She then turned off her datapad, turned on the HoloTV, and dozed off ungracefully a few minutes later.

\----

When Khan was interrupted in his silent mulling the next day, he was eating in the cafeteria and thinking about his lightsaber.

The pearl was proving extremely difficult to work with, he thought it might require a specific type of emitters that he didn't have on hand. Plagueis' blade emitter and the power cells just overall did not fit into any kind of design he tried to come up with, a pity for the rest worked just fine. He had carved the isolator into a particularly nice looking crisscross design that made the Beskar partially discovered once he welded it into one cohesive hilt. The blade hilt was the perfect size for him, he had no trouble hollowing it of components to fashion it into a lightsaber hilt, keeping the three claw-like Beskar pieces that made the guard of the blade. The blade itself he had kept with the intent of making it into something useful. At the moment it seemed pretty awesome at cutting tough meats when he was cooking.

Mandalore the Great would roll in his grave if he knew.

Still, his creation won't produce a blade, and it was starting to annoy the crap out of him. Finding a blade emitter was tough, and if power cells were common enough there were no certitudes that they would fit better than the tatooinian ones, unless he managed to find suitable but far less accessible diatium ones. Not that he was going to give up anyway, he was not pressed by time and it was an interesting challenge.

He still had his Sith saber if he really needed one ready, even if it was not really a good fit for him anymore since he was out of the suit. It was too big, too bulky and filled to the brim with horrendous memories he did not particularly care for. It had cut Luke's hand, it was a symbol of his madness, of what Darth Vader had been. But it was also there for him to use in the meantime and, well, he was still a bit fond of the object, and very proud of making it. The battle he had to win to obtain the kyber crystal had not been an easy one and he had spent a great amount of time and efforts on numerous upgrades throughout the decades he used it. If he had the choice he would probably try to upgrade the new one too to make it dual-phase, a great advantage in battle and a personal preference. He was not particularly certain the pearl would mesh well with any type of crystal though, and his desire for adjustable blade length would have to wait until he could find more information about Krayt dragon pearls.

He was merrily considering designs and ways to obtain what he needed while munching without any conviction on his delicious meal when an annoying voice cut right into his splendid daydreaming.

  
  


“Hey, Khan. How was your Enki break?”

  
  


Khan's eyes were attracted to the noise and fell on Alys. Predictable. Her brown hair was done into the elaborate hairstyle she liked best and her cheeks were already rosy from addressing him. He sighed mentally, already exhausted at the idea of having her trailing him until their next class. He needed to find a way to get rid of her, she had ruined his little technological fantasy and he was in no mood to discuss anything. He was never really in a mood to discuss with her anyway.

  
  


“It was fine,” he replied icily.

  
  


His tone was cold enough to make her recoil, which he appreciated. He didn't talk all that often outside of answering when a teacher asked him a question in class, and he knew that bothered most of the other students to no end, Alys included. From the superficial thoughts he could hear from her through the Force, she believed it was her mission to make him into an active member of the school by forcing him into being more social. She also found his blue eyes extremely distracting, if her fixation on them was as pronounced as it seemed.

  
  


Unfortunately, she was also somewhat brave. “I'm so happy you had a great time. I spent it with my family in the mountains, we have a house there that we always use for the holidays. It's gorgeous with all the flowers and we even have our own lake! I invited Flor and Gana last year during the summer break, maybe I should also invite you? What are your plans anyway?”

  
  


He had not-. Well, he did in fact had a great time, probably not for the reasons Alys was fathoming though. He gave her an indifferent glance before turning back to his food. Her tone was slightly condescending and told him everything he needed to know about the young girl. Below her apparent infatuation and kind demeanor, she had no more consideration than Jang about his supposedly humble origins and sought to exploit his apparent lack of money and connections to get him to like her.

Distantly, Khan heard the Dark side whisper tender promises of crushed windpipe and flayed skin, of how beautiful her screams would be once she realized how misguided she was in her interest. He settled for a more school-like rejection and spoke to her in the coldest voice he could manage.

  
  


“They do not involve you.”

  
  


He rose, discarded the rest of his tray on a nearby bin and left the cafeteria. He had nearly two hours left before his next class and cared little for another interaction with his peers.

Khan thought about the matter for a couple of seconds, then made his way out of the Academy and towards the Jedi temple nearby, avoiding a screeching Alys who had apparently started crying. She loved pitiable displays of whatever turmoil agitated her, he wasn't surprised.

The temple was silent, while it remained open at all times it was mostly frequented in the evenings during classes. He made his way to the training room, changed quickly in the locker room in the back for the more combat-appropriate clothes he kept there, and activated a couple of training droids to be able to channel his displeasure into combat.

The training sabers they used were not his favorite, but they were adequate and in a couple of minutes, he was enjoying himself again, beating the droids without breaking a sweat while reflecting again on his lightsaber problem.

  
  


“You are truly brilliant, Khan.”

  
  


He turned his head and nodded to Lun Su-Li before deactivating the droids with the Force and putting them back into their storage space.

  
  


“Thank you Master Su-Li. I feel I made a lot of progress under your guidance.”

  
  


Complete Bantha crap. Su-Li was nice enough for a standard Padawan level Jedi but for someone of his level he was at best annoying. He, however, was a pretty silent man, and with the numerous hours he had to spend caged in a classroom with noisy teenagers Khan had started to truly enjoy his quiet company and complete disregard of the current Jedi Code.

  
  


Su-Li smiled humbly. “You are a rising star in this modest temple, Khan, your talent is natural. I have very little to do with your brilliance.”

At least he wasn't the only one aware of the truth. Still, it wasn't like him to praise Khan without an afterthought. “You're unusually talkative, Master Su-Li. Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Actually it is more of a favor I want to ask of you.” His eyes glinted with amusement at being caught. “The younglings look up to you a lot, and I was wondering if you would consider tutoring them in lightsaber training?”

  
  


Khan considered it for a few moments. Despite his admittedly traumatic last experience with the coruscanti's Initiates, he didn't mind the younglings as much as he did the older students who overall disliked him for being superior to them in every way possible. It would be good practice if he truly intended to become a part of his younger self's life later on. He was also pretty this was one of the steps required to actually graduate from the Temple as a Jedi “Knight”, which would be an added benefit. He would just have to endure noisy children a couple of times a week. Not that big of a deal, he had managed the Imperial fleet for years, and the average officer was ten times worse and more entitled than the standard child.

  
  


His choice was made. “If you need my help you have it.”

“Perfect!” Su-Li smiled. “I'll plan the first session and come back to you. You are still coming every Thursday?”

Khan nodded. “Yes, Thursday will be adequate.”

“Thank you, Khan. Don't forget your afternoon classes,” he said, fondness obvious in his tone.

“I'll head out soon, Master.”

  
  


The Jedi nodded and took his leave, smiling at him with a mixture of kindness and pride. Lun Su-Li had taken a liking to him and was always happy to tutor him privately when he proved himself way above the material taught during the evening classes, which was happening increasingly often. For all his flaws he was quite knowledgeable in mostly useless techniques long forgotten by the coruscanti Order, and took great pleasure in seeing Khan succeed flawlessly at every new exercise he threw at him.

He put back the saber in the box they were kept in and made a mental note of bringing up the lightsaber topic with Su-Li, maybe as a reward for helping with the younglings.

In a much lighter mood at the idea of getting his hands on diatium power cells and a decent blade emitter without having to resort to calling Anya for help, he headed straight for the sonic showers and washed quickly before putting on his Academy uniform on again and giving his training outfit to the cleaning droid that washed it in between uses and always put it back in his locker neatly folded.

His anger had receded to a comfortable level at this point and he was very ready to spend his afternoon classes in studious silence, focused on his classes, his lightsaber and eventually how he was going to go about teaching the younglings at the temple.

After a short walk into town, he was at the Academy again and decided to go straight for his classroom. Once there he sat without even looking at the other students and got his datapad out of his bag, checking quickly his HoloMails before the class started.

Anya had written to him. He smiled internally, pleased, and opened the mail. She was telling him she was trying to organize their first official meeting for the upcoming summer break and that he could keep the ship for his personal use. She had apparently taken care of all the paperwork to make it his ship, bought with his money and resting in his rented hangar on Alasia's spaceport. Anya herself was leaving for Bothawui in a few days and would probably not have easy access to untraceable communication means until she was back on Coruscant. She told him that she would contact him again to schedule their next comm call later this month and wished him a good week.

Efficient, to the point, and helpful.

He replied quickly, thanking her for the ship and wishing her a pleasant mission on Bothawui before he closed the HoloMail app and opened his advanced algebra class file.

\----

Anya swore a couple of curses in Huttese she had learned from Vader when she realized what was happening to her yacht.

Her trip to Bothawui had been overall a great success and Serenno was slowly but surely earning in the Senate the galactic influence Anya and her uncle wanted the planet to have.

Anya herself was gaining more and more traction, slipping seemingly effortlessly into her future senator role. It took patience, hours of hard work, a healthy amount of behind-licking for the right persons and attending a ton of social events she hated passionately, leaving her drained and exhausted most days, but it was working. Her reputation was flawless, her firm kindness noticed and the couple of relief missions she had assisted or planned contributed largely to her overall growing popularity in the Senate. As a result, her pet project for the Flight Academy had also made nice progress, politicians and sponsors alike were starting to show some real interest and it felt a lot more fleshed out now, concrete.

Plus, she had been in a rather jovial mood earlier that day.

She had been on her way back to Coruscant from a short trip to Serenno to visit her uncle. He had been happy to see her, from what she could tell, and even managed to coerce her into training a bit with him before she had to head back again. He promised that he would try to visit soon and would try his best to meet with Qui-Gon, and he had awkwardly hugged her before she left. She had been understandably ecstatic. Serenno had been beautiful as always, all covered in the bright colors of late spring, the pine forest smelling deliciously strong under the warm sun, and she had enjoyed a few outings in the woods with her Fathier Mael when she wasn't stuck in whatever meeting required her presence.

She should have known it wasn't going to last that long.

Fod was beside her, looking completely out of his league and terrified. He was grasping a blaster with trembling hands and seemed ready to pass out at the first sign of a battle. Useless, too bad. Anya had her lightsaber on her belt, courtesy of her required long hours of training with Dooku senior, unlit and hidden by the travel cloak she was wearing. If needed, she had a lethal weapon at her disposal. She just hoped she would not have to use it.

They had been stupidly captured by pirates, their ship caught in a tractor beam after their usual refuel stop in between the two last hyperspace jumps on their way back to the Core worlds. The pirates in question, if they were really pirates, had not yet boarded their ship, but judging by the voices she could hear getting closer, it would not be long before they entered and discovered their lame crew.

Anya, Fod, and Gregor, the serennian chauffeur that also served as her pilot when she was traveling.

The pilot was still in the cockpit, Anya had ordered him to be ready for take-off as soon as the issue was solved. Which, in all honesty, was not going to happen any time soon without at least some sort of adventurous development. To avoid stressing Fod even further, she had politely refrained from mentioning anything about the ominous feeling she got from the Force. It moved around her, a tad uneasy, a tad playful, but mostly solemn. Something was going to happen, it would have to. Anya wasn't sure if she was ready for what the higher power had in store for her this time.

She repressed a groan hearing her assistant whimper pitifully and tried to get back to her planning session.

First of all, she needed to get Fod somewhere where he could not see whatever crap she would have to pull to get them out of the situation. Once that was done, she would try to negotiate with them, and if that failed, well, despite her reluctance to fight she had been trained by one of the best duelists of the Jedi Order.

A bloodless annihilation would be fitting, even if she loathed it. As long as they stayed alive and didn't witness anything they weren't supposed to, it could all be over quite soon.

  
  


“Fod, I want you to hide in the storage compartments underneath the captain's cabin. Only come out when I tell you too. Mute you comm unit and don't make noise,” she asked in a calm voice, careful to hide her agitation.

“What are you planning Countess? We don't even know how many they are, it could be extremely dangerous!” Fod replied, panicked.

She put a hand on his arm and tried to send calming waves his way. “I know Fod, but I'm the only one trained in combat and also the only prisoner of value. They probably won't kill me straight off and I have the best chance of defeating them. Go.”

  
  


The small man gave a worried look, but he was a coward first and foremost, and he didn't wait long before disappearing in the ship's main corridor, leaving her alone.

With her pilot in the cockpit and Fod hidden in the captain's cabin, she had everyone in place. Good, now, she needed to get the pirates to let them go. Hopefully, she would not have to do anything too drastic, but in the worst-case scenario, she could use her powers without risking being discovered by her crew.

Anya repressed a shiver. She did not particularly enjoy the idea, far from it actually. Her stomach was churning with apprehension and sheer fear, and she was well aware a good part of it was directed towards herself and not the pirates.

Even though she doubted the ripple in the Force would alert anyone with the high concentration of living Force users in this timeline, she was very unsure of what it would do to her. She knew instinctively that she had lost many things during their comeback. Some she had willingly sacrificed to be able to create a fully-fledged body for Vader, some that she had not. Her powers had always been cruel, demanding harsh payments for each use, tiny chunks of herself she had to give up to wield the chaos it created, and this had been by far her most ambitious feat. She had been affected, that was for sure. She was convinced she could never repeat the feat, ever. It took too much, her entire life would not be sufficient to exchange for another large jump in the past.

Still, it didn't mean that her complete set of abilities were null now. She had felt the power rising just below her fingertips numerous times by now, tingling against her nerves with quiet demands to be used against her foes. She could feel the Force at all times, eager to please, always her ally. If the situation turned ugly, she would have to trust using her gift wouldn't demand too much of her in return.

Anya sat at the main quarters' table, nearly in front of the still closed ramp, and opened herself to the Force, inspecting the sentients around her. The ship seemed medium-sized, not as big as she had feared, and from what she could tell there were around thirty crew members on board, including three very near the ship. The welcoming committee.

If she wanted her ship to be able to flee, she had to find the tractor beam and disable it, and pray all the gods of the galaxy that in the meantime no one tinkered with her ship, found out about Fod and Gregor, or figured out what she was doing. The probabilities of everything going well were atrociously low.

They knew people were there, of course, yachts tended to carry wealthy passengers, which was why they had been targeted in the first place, so infiltration would most likely not work. Her best shot might actually be to let herself be captured and ransomed. They would probably lead her to their leader to figure out what to do with her. The highest concentration of pirates would be there, and if she incapacitated all of them she would have a good shot at deactivating the tractor beam. She would then have to go back to the ship and flee fast enough for the rest of the crew not to go after them.

The ramp opened.

  
  


“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Someone said in a mocking tone.

  
  


Three, as she saw in the Force, a blue skinned Rodian, a stocky blond man and a tall Ithorian with a mean look in his eyes. He was the one who spoke, standing in the center. They all had blasters drawn and from what she could feel their intentions were unclear, which sucked. It meant they were disorganized, but prone to be unpredictable.

She stood up and put her hands up, trying to look as nonthreatening as she could. It wasn't that hard, she was still a teenager after all. She saw the blond man's gaze travel on her body, lingering on the curves she knew to be moderately engaging, taking in her tall form, long white-blond hair and pretty face still soft from the roundness of childhood. She saw his jaw clench, his nostrils flare, and she knew that if her plan did not work she was in for a really bad time.

Kriff! She swallowed nervously, her saliva tasting like fear, and felt her pulse quicken as rancid terror spread through her veins like a violent infection. She wasn't so confident anymore.

  
  


The Ithorian spoke. “Are you traveling alone, little lady?”

“I am.”

“On such a pretty ship too... It really isn't safe, maybe we should escort you. Where were you going?” he asked with a vicious smile.

“Coruscant,” she replied curtly, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

“Well, my lady, we'll take you to the captain, ask him to change course. Come!”

  
  


The Rodian took one of her arm, the human took the other and they followed the Ithorian inside the ship. Anya took the time to commit the road to her memory and identify the possible route to the tractor beam module while they dragged her to lavish living quarters decorated with furs and hunting trophies of all sorts until they reached a bigger room with a small stage where a heavily ornate gold throne was placed.

A Twi'Lek male was lounging on it, one leg on the right armrest, watching them come in with an expression of calculated boredom. He was muscular, with pale green skin and richly embroidered clothes. His lekku were tattooed, the tips hidden by pointy gold blades that looked too impractical to fight with. All around him a dozen pirates were seated, a made-up court for a made up king. They whispered when she entered, all malevolent smiles and mean gazes, before the Twi'Lek held his hand, silencing everyone.

  
  


“Good catch,” he purred, stretching his form on the throne as he turned his torso to face them.

“Thank you, Boss!” the Rodian replied, obviously proud of his king's recognition.

The Twi'Lek gestured towards her, teeth glinting dangerously under the dim lights. “Does she have a name?”

  
  


The Ithorian pushed her forward and she allowed herself to trip a little, simulating weakness. Her brain was working at maximum speed to find solutions, but the only thing that kept coming back was that this looked bad, bad, bad, and she was so, so, screwed. Maybe she could drop her title? It certainly worked on Coruscant.

  
  


“I am Countess Anya Dooku of House Serenno,” she stated, trying to appear as confident as possible. Her voice was trembling, and her hands were shaking. She probably wasn't convincing anyone. At least she still had the lightsaber.

“Royalty? Well, Countess Anya, on this ship I am the only king and if you have nothing better than your name, you have no use to me.” He smiled, a fierce, hungry grin that told her everything she needed to know about her potential fate. It also triggered that little arrogant part of her that was extremely vexed not to be treated with the respect that she was due. That was not her most intelligent trait, unfortunately.

“I don't negotiate with pirates,” she replied haughtily.

His smile turned downright cruel and she felt the three sentients around her tense at her words. “Then by word of King Rayaa, you will lose your life. Nemu, take her to a cell, Karum, Daren inspect her ship, dainty little ladies like her are never alone.”

  
  


The crowd whispered again, she heard words of torture and turns and public execution. She kept herself looking calm, unbothered, but she felt her insides freeze further in anxiety.

What if she could not pull this off?

She was betting her life on powers she hadn't tried to use in combat for years, powers that she had trouble controlling in her youth. And outside of her own life, she was also putting the lives of Fod and Gregor at risk. If she failed she would let them down, if she failed they would die. And of course she had to behave like the stupid stuck up princess who refused to negotiate, who refused to talk, because she was too proud and she was offended and she hated those scums!

It was going to be a bloodbath, and she would have to make every kill count.

Nemu, the mean Ithorian, approached to grab her arm and take her out of the room. Anya stilled, opened herself to the Force as much as she could and saw all the threads in the room, bright ropes of energy connected by their goal on the ship and their shared experiences.

She was foreign in their midst, only four flimsy threads connecting her to the four people she had interacted with in the room, the two stronger threads connecting her to Fod and Gregor stretched and uneasy, clear of all others. She focused, centering her breath, gathering energy from the Force and molding it to her particular needs, then pulled.

The effects were clearly not as great as they would have been before her return to the past, when she could sustain the full potential of the technique, but it was enough. Some pirates were already dead, others had aged drastically and were thoroughly disconcerted by the experience. She wasted no time watching the strangely deformed bodies and turned on her lightsaber.

The disoriented pirates offered little resistance, she had expected as much. She sliced and cut and saw and slashed and they all fell like flies. Daren, the human male that had been so happy to put his grabby little paws on her earlier during the walk from the ship to the throne room had died with a terrified look on his face. They all had. Their screams of panic were tearing her soul apart, but she had started something and now she needed to finish it.

She did not treat the king with any more regard than his men.

“Please... Please, Countess, I will give you everything I have, please let me live,” Rayaa tried to negotiate, his old throat making his voice raspy. His muscles were gone, skin saggy and wrinkly, lekku twitching in terror around blades he couldn't lift anymore.

Anya raised a brow. “As I stated, I don't negotiate with pirates,” she replied, her voice laced with contempt.

She cut off his head, spraying herself with blood.

They were thirty-four sentients on this ship including her and her crew. She had just killed seventeen. The backlash would not be pretty, but she didn't have the time to ponder on that. She fled out of the room, her intent clear in the Force, the lit green blade making her eyes shone with deadly promises.

She ran towards what she thought was the tractor beam module. The Force pulled her there, whispering about escapes and crew habits and danger. It told her that nothing was over, that she had to hurry, for the trick only worked once and the pirates were trained in combat.

Anya was objectively not a master in technologies, but she didn't have to understand the mechanics of the tractor beam to destroy it, and she had a laser sword. The Force sang, “there, there”, and she struck, the metals and plastics melting under her blade, the scent atrocious. An alarm blared. She fled.

Her lungs were burning, the metal corridors seemingly endless. She wasn't running fast enough, not fast enough, she was going to get caught. Her heart was beating loudly, the Force screaming now, telling her to go far, far away as quick as she could. Anya ran faster, she tried, her boots sliding over the tiled floor, sweat pearling on her forehead.

She tripped in a particularly harsh turn and fell on the ground, twisting her ankle and wrist when she caught herself. The pain was not blinding, but it still hurt, and she wanted to cry. She had just killed seventeen of them, and there were seventeen more, and she didn't feel strong enough to face whatever they had in store for her if they captured her for real. She tried to rise, failed, and the pain and panic and raw fear were strong to make her threw up her lunch on the polished gray tiles. Trying to breathe and feeling tears running down her cheeks, she tried again, grunting, and managed to pull herself back on her feet. Steeling herself, she resumed her running, the pain stabbing her ankle a tiny bit more strongly each time she put any weight on her foot.

She was nearly in the hangar again when something grabbed her arm, yanking her in another corridor.

  
  


“Not so fast witch!”

  
  


Anya felt like her heart was about to explode, panic flooding her veins. They were two, and they looked mean, and they had blasters, safety off, trained on her point blank. If she tried to move, she would get shot. She swallowed harshly, panting. If they captured her and realized she had slaughtered their comrades, her fate would be dire, she had to do something to escape. She was going to die if she did nothing. Was it worth getting shot?

It was.

She activated her lightsaber again and stroke, screaming in pain as the blasters shoot her, one in the stomach, the other in the arm. Still, she pushed through, cleaving their heads from their bodies, and ran away, leaving a heavy trail of blood behind her. Hers, this time.

She finally made her way to the ship, each step difficult, the pain unbearable, her body screaming at her to stop, to rest, to sleep. Her limbs felt cold and numb, the injury in her stomach pulsating in agony with each move she made, but she kept her legs going and called for Fod and Gregor once she was inside.

She turned off the saber once they arrived and fell, unable to stay up any longer. She just had the time to tell them she had deactivated the tractor beam before losing consciousness.

  
  


When she opened her eyes again she was in a medbay.

Anya tried to sit down but the newly repaired wound on her stomach protested, sending a jolt of pain in her system that made her groan. Immediately she was faced with a visibly anxious Fod and gave him a weak smile.

  
  


“Countess Anya you should not move, you've been wounded and they didn't have a bacta tank.”

  
  


She was about to ask who were “they” when he left suddenly. Coward. A good minute later the medbay's door opened and Qui-Gon Jinn stepped in, alone, looking as calm as usual with maybe a sliver of worry in his gorgeous blue eyes. If she had been in better shape she would have blushed under his intense look, but as it was she was in pain and disgusting, and so her cheeks remained pale and her gaze unfazed.

Her scalp was itchy, her usually well kept mane dirtied by dried blood and matted around her head like a halo of grime. Her top, vest, and cloak had been removed to allow the med droid to treat her wound and her arm and abdomen were bandaged. To preserve her modesty she had been put in a medical robe, a green fashion disaster she would have never worn outside of sheer necessity. Still, despite her dire need for a shower and the aching wounds covered by bacta patches, the situation was not so bad. They had escaped the pirates, clearly, and she was alive.

Victory tasted sweet, if she was careful enough not to remember how their flesh had sang as she cut through it, how their screams had rung with no one around to hear them. She hated killing, it was unnatural, wrong, and she took no pleasure in it. Taking a life that was meant to go on had a cost, and one she loathed to pay. Later on, if they left her alone for a sufficient amount of time, she would cry. Later on, once she would be truly alone in her apartment in Coruscant she would close the blinds, lit candles on her altar and put offerings in a traditional serennian ceramic plate. She would then open herself to the Force and mourn the loss of the nineteen lives she had cut short and thank the Force for giving her the strength to keep herself alive.

  
  


“Anya? How are you feeling?” He asked gently.

  
  


Qui-Gon seemed concerned now, which made sense, she had phased out for at least five minutes looking at him blankly, barely blinking. She must have looked crazy, unhinged. She had just murdered nineteen people in cold blood. Did he know?

  
  


“Fine enough,” she replied laconically. “How come you are here?”

“Your pilot Gregor commed for help, we were the closest and offered to bring you back. Your ship is docked here.”

She managed a small smile. “Thank you, Qui-Gon. Is my uncle aware of the situation?”

“Fod told him earlier, he asked that you comm him whenever you feel better.”

  
  


Anya nodded. She did not know what his reaction was going to be. They were closer this time around, they understood each other more. Past-time Dooku would be proud of her little murder spree, it would comfort him in his decision to push her towards the Dark side slowly but surely. Now? It was tough to say, but she doubted he would be particularly overjoyed that she went against the pirates alone.

It would have been easier if Khan was there.

But he wasn't, and relying on his power would just make her lazy. She had made decisions, on that ship, and she needed to defend them now. Her choices had not been bad choices, except perhaps-.

Yes, except perhaps the decision she took to refuse all negotiation. But uncle Yan did not have to know about that, and the Jedi certainly didn't need to know either. It was incriminating enough that she was a trained Force-sensitive not belonging to the Order and killing people with a lightsaber, she would not go overboard and confess that she did it without even trying to talk them out of it because she considered them lowly scums.

  
  


She cleared her throat, embarrassed. “I will need to clean up, then I can comm him.”

“You are not supposed to stand yet, not with your stomach wound,” he chastised gently. Was he suggesting-?

  
  


Anya blushed this time but Qui-Gon just smiled and went to gather a towel, a sponge, a comb and warm water before sitting himself next to her bed. He spent long minutes removing the blood and grime from her hair and face with tactful gestures, as soft and efficient as he could be. Anya spent those same minutes staring at the ceiling, mortified and a bit sad. She hated being touched and despite Qui-Gon's gentleness, the experience was far from pleasant for her. It didn't help her either to know that the Naboo invasion was coming in a bit more than a year now. It was incredibly depressing to think that one of her first bonds here was going to die during the conflict and that she planned to let it happen.

Once approximately presentable he put pillows behind her back and helped her sit up a bit straighter before sitting back next to her while the comm unit rang. Away from his touch and now able to think logically again, she was filled with warmth by his kind gestures and obvious compassion for her wounds. Qui-Gon was genuinely so nice it hurt.

Yan Dooku picked up right away. His brows were furrowed, his face stern and he looked just as pissed as Qui-Gon was calm, which said a lot. When he saw her though his demeanor softened, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief.

  
  


“Anya. I'm glad to see you awake, if unharmed.”

She went for a contrite smile. “Thank you for your concern uncle Yan, I'm sure I will be healed in no time.”

His face sharpened. “What happened?”

  
  


No time for niceties, then. He hadn't even seemed to notice Qui-Gon at her side, and had clasped his hands together over his abdomen in a gesture she knew to be indicative of his impatience with her. He wanted the truth, and fast. She took a sip of water to soothe her parched throat and replied as serenely as she could.

  
  


“We were trapped by a pirate's ship, they had a tractor beam. I wanted Gregor to be ready to leave as soon as possible, and I was the only prisoner of value. Fod would have been killed in the fray. I let them capture me in hopes of negotiating, they took me to their leader and did not check for weapons.

“He... he wasn't willing to hear me out and decided to let some of his men have their way while others would inspect the ship. He said once they were all done they could execute me. I couldn't let them leave the room and go back to the ship, so I used the Force to push them against the wall and I killed the ones still alive with my blade. I disabled the tractor beam but I was already tired from fighting earlier and two pirates surprised me with blasters. I knew once they would find out about the others, they would kill me, so I chose to attack knowing I would get shot. I went back to the ship and that's all I remember.”

  
  


Dooku looked conflicted, half proud of her and half disproving of her actions. He stayed silent while Qui-Gon spoke.

  
  


“It matches with what Fod and Gregor told us, and the ship's computer history. Do you know how many pirates were there?” he asked, his tone professional.

“Thirty-four, nineteen I killed,” she whispered, remembering their terrorized faces.

  
  


She shuddered and saw her uncle's jaw clench. Again pride and disapproval seemed to war for his final thoughts, without one clearly winning. She felt a surge of worry from Qui-Gon beside her, quickly washed away in the Force. Was he worried that she killed nineteen people, or worried that she knew the exact number?

  
  


“I will have to make a report to the Council, since the incident involved a Force-sensitive.”

“She acted in self-defense and protected her crew,” her uncle thundered, brows furrowed in a displeased frown.

“And I will make sure the Council understands that, Master,” Qui-Gon retorted, placating him.

  
  


Yan Dooku seemed a tiny bit relieved to hear that Qui-Gon was on her side, and nodded. He took another undecipherable look at Anya but he did not see fit to say more, even though she could tell she would be due for another much more confrontational conversation later on, in private.

  
  


“Thank you, Qui-Gon, I appreciate. I'll travel to Coruscant as soon as possible of course, in the meantime can I entrust her to you?” he asked, prompting her to frown in turn. She wasn't a house plant, she could take care of herself!

The Jedi nodded. “Yes Master.”

“Then I'll leave you to it. Rest well, Anya, we'll discuss the incident again when I arrive,” he concluded sternly.

  
  


He then cut the connection and Anya sighed softly.

Was it weird that she was almost looking forward to it? He was going to unleash his coldest blizzard of anger and disappointment on her, making her feel like she was a child caught doing something particularly naughty again. She used to despise it, it awakened her ire like nothing else and she would go to incredible length to defy his authority, usually proving him right. But now... now it just felt like he cared, and she found it very endearing.

Qui-Gon rose and gathered the comm unit from the bed. He looked vaguely conflicted, and she guessed half of him wanted to reassure her, and the rest was afraid both of jeopardizing their developing connection and of barging in her relationship with her uncle with words that could be misinterpreted. She relieved him of the responsibility.

  
  


“He barks but won't bite, Qui-Gon.” She smiled, her tone amused. “It is his way of showing his affection.”

He returned her smile. “You seem to understand him well.”

“I hope so.”

  
  


There was something in his eyes that told her that he hoped so too, but she knew that he had been disappointed before and that he would not voice the words. He made sure she was comfortable enough to rest and took his leave, probably to do his report to the Council and see his apprentice.

Anya drifted off quite fast after his departure. The discussions had exhausted her, and her wounds were tender at best. She had a last thought about Khan's reaction and decided it was something to worry about another day.

\----

“Troubling, her use of the Force was.”

  
  


Qui-Gon Jinn agreed. When they had caught the serennian ship they were already too far from the pirate's ship to investigate properly what had really happened, but Anya seemed to tell the truth and her two crew members had projected a very graphic vision when he had asked for their retelling of the incident.

He could see it himself through their eyes, the image so powerful it was ingrained in their mind. Anya walking down the ramp, covered head to toe in blood and gore, green eyes glinting with gold, feral, and her blade still lit. She had turned off the green lightsaber, told them they could go and collapsed.

Yoda's concerns were understandable, but his old Master was right, it was self-defense.

  
  


“She is not sworn under the Order and acted purely in self-defense, we have no jurisdiction to punish her,” he stated calmly, staying as neutral as he could.

“The pirates won't retaliate officially either,” Mace Windu added.

  
  


Qui-Gon glanced at the other Master. Would that influence their decision positively or negatively? It was always difficult to tell where Windu stood on those matters, especially for Qui-Gon Jinn, since their thought-processes were drastically different.

  
  


“She seems affected. She knows the exact number of pirates she cut down. I believe it was not her first intention to kill.”

Yoda hummed ominously, which could really mean anything, in Qui-Gon's experience, then his ears twitched. He must have reached a conclusion. Surprisingly, Mace was the one who spoke first. “Count Dooku won't accept to leave her unprotected after what happened, she will keep the saber.”

The Grand Master looked straight at Qui-Gon, his expression slightly displeased by Mace's words. “Take her to the temple, you should. Medical assistance, the Order will provide.”

  
  


And they would also have some time to assess her potential level of dangerousness. Clever, if a tad devious. Qui-Gon was not particularly fond of the idea. Still, he nodded and the call ended.

Obi-Wan was fidgeting next to him. His dear Padawan had kept his calm during the meeting with the Council, as was expected of him, but he visibly had something to say about the whole situation. Considering his initial thoughts on Anya, probably something not very nice.

  
  


“Why are you defending her?” he asked, his face staying neutral while the Force around him bristled with feelings of incomprehension and betrayal.

  
  


Jealousy. Not his best trait, he would have to keep it in check if he wanted to be knighted. Obi-Wan had never truly overcame his initial rejection and his difficult Initiate years, he had just pushed everything so far inside of his mind that it didn't appear anymore, until something triggered his insecurities and made it all come back.

Qui-Gon would have helped more, but this was Obi-Wan's trial to rise above his mortal conception of strength and power and realize he didn't needed a high midi-chlorians count or any Master's approval to be the amazing Jedi Qui-Gon could see in him. In a sense, telling him he was worthy would push him two steps back on his journey. The Force had entrusted him with abilities most people lacked, it was his duty as a Jedi to trust the higher power in return and detach himself from his expectations. Obi-Wan had precisely what he needed to walk his own path and would know precisely when to use it, guided by the will of the Force.

It was not, however, the matter at hand.

  
  


“She made a tough decision in a tough situation.”

His Padawan narrowed his eyes. “She choose violence.”

She did, and it was wrong. She was also a sheltered young princess with deadly training that had found herself in a dire situation with little hope for her immediate future outside of using lethal force. “She swore no oath to the Order, we should not judge her like we would another Jedi.”

“You're fond of her, Master,” Obi-Wan chastised. “You should not let your affection for Master Dooku blind you.”

  
  


Was Qui-Gon blind? Anya was a kind girl, he had known that since he first laid his eyes on her. She had a tough exterior, a stiff sharpness that seemed to be familial, but something in her eyes, something in the Force around her told him she was a gentle soul, a peace seeker.

He flinched when he remembered the vision of Anya covered in blood. The immediate threat on her life had pushed her fighting instincts to come out. She was a politician, but she had been trained as a Force user by Dooku and against non Sensitive people... Well, they had stood no chance. A Jedi would have tried to negotiate or incapacitate them, only killing when no other choices were available, but Anya had never been an Initiate or a Padawan, she hadn't been raised with their ideals in mind. Yan Dooku had been ruthless before, he knew that, and he doubted he spent much time on teaching her niece compassion and understanding. He would have killed them too.

  
  


“You should not let dislike taint your words Obi-Wan. It doesn't suit you.”

  
  


Obi-Wan bristled, visibly this time, at his jab and gave him an embarrassed look before storming off the room. Qui-Gon soon got out too and passed by the medbay on his road to his quarter. Anya was sleeping on her back, hair spread in a platinum halo around her serene face, looking much more at ease than she had before.

He sighed, his Padawan was not completely wrong.

  
  


  
  



	6. Return of the Sith

  
  
  


### Chapter 6: Return of the Sith

  
  


Anya was not particularly impressed by the Jedi temple. Of course, having been imprisoned here for years under Palpatine's watchful eyes before he dumped her on Byss hadn't helped her develop any kind of positive feelings for the place, but even before it became the Imperial Palace it had a vibe that rubbed her wrong. A sort of hubris, a self-righteous arrogance she personally despised. The Jedi there were convinced their way of using the Force was the only right way, that all others were heretics, fools, or enemies. It showed.

She was glad she hadn't mentioned the most frowned-upon part of her personal practice when the mind healer who performed her mental evaluation had asked her about her use of the Force. It was already bad enough that she was trained outside of the temple, they would have lost it if they knew of the altar, the candles, and the offerings, the chants and the celebrations she held secretly, the maze of lifelines in her mind eye whose knots and splits helped her discern possibilities.

The pirate hadn't been wrong, in a lot of ways she had been educated more as a witch than a Jedi, the power she wielded was unknown to them, forgotten, its secrets kept in dusty flimsi books and Holocrons that spoke in ancient languages, the knowledge discarded ages ago when it was deemed either useless or dangerous by the Force users of that time. Palpatine had dug deep for those texts, unearthing them from old temples and secret archives then forced her to study the languages and read and listen and learn everything they had to teach her.

She felt a bit of glee thinking that his little obsession over her powers had given her exactly what she needed to come back further to the past than he ever hypothesized was possible and destroy him before he could destroy everything this time, and led her toward a spiritual vision and practice of the Force he would have personally despised.

Still, she could not let herself go, not there. The Jedi were watching, stoic and curious, she could feel their stares in the Halls of Healing. She was never truly alone, there.

Qui-Gon had told her that after hearing the mind healer's report the Council had decided to let the incident go without investigating anymore. She had repressed a snort, for she knew very well there was little they could do. She had not used the Dark side of the Force in a way they could detect, it was self-defense, no one had pressed charges and there were no rules stating that the usage of the Force and of lightsabers was restricted to the Jedi Order's Force Sensitives. They had evaluated her Force signature and how the incident had impacted her mentally, and that was it.

Qui-Gon had stayed true to the word he had given her uncle. He stayed with her quite a bit, taking her on little tours, showing her his rock collection and discussing interesting Force theories. He was great company, but with each day that passed her comm unit burned more and more in her pocket, reminding her that Khan and their plans were waiting. She still had access to her datapad and had quickly picked up on her workload again, but she could feel the Jedi's disapproval and it felt rude to work when he was with her.

She was exchanging by HoloMails with the corellian, talravinian and axxilan representatives involved in the Flight Academy project about a first test this summer for students of their academies before implementation on a wider scale in the coming years when Qui-Gon came that morning. He was chatting amicably with Master Yoda and her uncle and tossed her an unimpressed look when he saw she was on the datapad again. She sent her last mail and shut down the object, laying it next to her on her bed. Her wounds were healed for a couple of days now, and she was not feeling particularly tired anymore. Her presence in the Halls of Healing was unwarranted at this point, so she did not particularly care about his opinion.

Yan Dooku smiled when he saw her and she stood up to greet him.

  
  


“Anya, I'm pleased to find you well.”

  
  


She smiled at the warmth she could read in his eyes as they clasped their right forearms together, thumb, index and middle finger extended, other fingers bent, and leaned until their shoulders brushed in the traditional serennian royal salute. In a less formal setting, she would have gone for a hug, probably, but the salute was detailed enough to convey their feelings and the shoulder brush was usually reserved for siblings or parents and children with a really close bond. To her best knowledge Jenza, her mother, had taught it to her uncle Yan and used it with her own mother Anya, from who she got her name from. She never did with her grandfather, Gora, or with Ramil, her other uncle.

She collected her thoughts and let her thumb brush his palm as she withdrew, letting him know she was sorry about causing him trouble. He pressed her index, accepting her apology.

Qui-Gon looked intrigued at the exchange, Yoda's ears were raised a tad higher than usual, his eyes unreadable.

  
  


“Master Dooku will bring you home Anya,” Qui-Gon said, his soft, deep voice warming her like a cup of excellent tea on a rainy day. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed at the thought.

“Thank you for your care, Master Qui-Gon, Master Yoda,” she replied, trying to maintain a professional tone, “I am grateful for your help and support.”

  
  


They both nodded, then Yoda wished her the best, greeted them, and left shortly afterward. Was he uncomfortable around his previous Padawan? Or simply busy and uninterested in their company? In either case, she wasn't complaining, reading him was a pain and she never knew if she was giving herself away or displeasing him when in his company.

Anya collected her things quickly and followed both Qui-Gon and Dooku outside. Feeling the sun on her skin felt nice and she could not repress a smile. In a very strange way, she felt free, now that she was out of the temple. The distant sensation of being watched faded and a quiet, warm relief took its place in her gut. She wondered, however, why Qui-Gon hadn't left them yet.

  
  


“ Qui-Gon suggested tea,” Dooku explained, either catching her fleeting thought or her curious expression. She hoped for the latter.

“Would you prefer your suite or my apartment? I have an excellent gatalentan brew,” she said, hated herself as soon as the words left her lips for offering her own place.

“Then the apartment will do. My suite is still being prepared, I just arrived.”

  
  


She made a quick mental check but there should not be anything incriminating in the apartment apart from Khan's drawing in the vault, and it would be the epitome of rudeness for guests to check its contents. It was safe.

They took off in Qui-Gon's speeder and landed on her private pad a few minutes later. She was overwhelmed for a minute with the feeling of being home for the first time in weeks but stilled herself and opened the door to her guests, inviting them to wait in the living room while she prepared the tea. She had taken it upon herself to redecorate the apartment to her personal taste with things she found during her frequent travels to exotic planets or purchased on the HoloNet, sometimes for indigent prices. The overall color schemed still verged on mostly neutrals with touches of greens, mainly due to the numerous plants she had ordered installed near the large windows and the balconies, but the overall composition still felt a lot warmer and homey than the original layout of the place.

When she came back her uncle was looking at a marble sculpture of Psera and Amos, the legendary serennian lovers and main protagonists of her favorite story since she was a small child. The piece was artfully disposed to not stand in the way and catch the afternoon light perfectly, tainting Psera's hair with molten golds and reds each sunset.

She smiled and put the tray with the teapot and the cups on the large glass table placed in the center of the square conversation pit, surrounded on all four sides by comfortable sofas and sitting directly under her HoloTV. The noise shook Qui-Gon from the tapestry depicting a greater Krayt dragon roaring under the rising three moons that hanged behind the pit and matched the large rug with golden threads and intricate patterns that covered its floor. The Krayt tapestry was honestly a tad tacky, but it was still incredibly detailed and beautiful, the degree of craftsmanship exceptional, and it reminded her of Khan, which made it one of her favorite pieces of her little collection.

She and Khan were scheduled to call each other in the evening, after dinner, she had sent him an HoloMail earlier and he had replied instantly. He was aware of the situation, of course, she had updated him as soon as she could because she knew he must have felt something from the bond and that he hated being kept from the information. She was a bit ashamed to admit that she missed speaking to him, and was looking forward to their little talk.

Qui-Gon and her uncle had started discussing anecdotes from their shared past, a similar look of comfortable familiarity painted on their faces. They were happy to be with each other again, she could see it in their soft looks and tiny smiles. The Force sang lazily around them, purring like a satisfied Lothcat after a pleasant meal. Anya smiled as well, sipping her tea while listening to the wild tales Qui-Gon painted, endlessly corrected by his much more reasonable former Master.

  
  


“...And then the Gundark chased us away from its young ones across the caves and we ended up having to hide in an underground lake to hide our scents, I had never seen Master Dooku with his hair this undone before,” Qui-Gon said, eyes glinting with humor.

Dooku huffed. “You exaggerate, I'm not that prone to vanity.”

The Jedi laughed. “You absolutely are, Master. Did you know the other Padawans considered you the most fashionable master until your departure? You should have seen that Anya, nearly every Padawan I knew at the time had ended up switching their robes for burgundy, black or dark browns to feel as stylish as you.”

  
  


Yan Dooku snorted and Anya laughed, thoroughly entertained.

  
  


“Is that why you care so much about your hair now Qui-Gon?” she asked teasingly.

“Absolutely, this is part of our line's legacy. Padawan Kenobi has also been affected, he has a great distaste for anything that might ruin his outfit,” he replied in the most serious tone.

“And yet you both choose to wear light colors, you seem to share a taste for self-inflicted suffering.”

  
  


Dooku reprimanded her with an extremely amused tone for her improper comment and Qui-Gon laughed and admitted she had a point. She left a few minutes to prepare another batch of tea, which had garnered both men's compliments, then came back to a more serious discussion that she could not catch. Both men stopped when she arrived and Qui-Gon asked her about the tapestry he was looking at earlier, clearly trying to distract her from whatever they were speaking about.

  
  


“This is from Tatooine, made by a small tribe of freed slaves who lives in one of the rare oasis you can find in the Dune Sea. Fod found it for me after I took a liking to the legend.”

“The legend?”

She hummed. “Yes, an old tale on how the three moons came to be.”

“Tell us more,” Qui-Gon asked, and she saw her uncle pour himself a new cup of tea, preparing himself for the long-winded tale he knew was coming.

“It is said that there was only one moon at first, when Tatooine was all green forests and vast oceans, and dragons lived in harmony with the humans, the resources so abundant that no one ever had to fight. But a greedy off-worlder came and saw Tatooine's treasures and wanted it all for himself. He stole the moon and broke it into pieces that he hid so well that no one was able to find them, using its power for his own gain. Without the moon, the water disappeared and soon led the tatooinians to ruin. With no drinkable water, the people so used to live in abundance ended up so desperate they had to submit to the off-worlder to survive and slavery was born.

“The dragons were angry against the humans, they said if they did not return the moon they would cover the planet in sand in revenge until humans disappeared. They started throwing sandstorms and rocks and soon, Tatooine's ocean was sand and the Dune Sea was born. Still, the off-worlder kept the moon and the water for himself. Behind his back, though, the slaves conspired. They sent Hêlel the brilliant, their most clever boy, to meet with the dragons.

“The first night he went to the dragons they nearly ate him, but before they could he said: 'oh, mighty dragons, how your jaw is powerful, surely it would not be so hard, for you to find the moon', and the dragons, proud of their jaws, ate the mountains and found pieces of the moon. They sent them to the sky and Ghomrassen was born. Exhausted, they went to sleep, and Hêlel slipped away.

“Hêlel came back the second night to the angry dragons, and before they ate him he told them: 'oh, mighty dragons, how your claws are sharp, surely it would not be so hard, for you to find the moon', and the dragons, proud of their claws, dug canyons and found pieces of the moon, they sent them to the sky and Guermessa was born. Exhausted, they went to sleep, and Hêlel slipped away.

“The third night Hêlel came, but the dragons ignored him, they knew they had been tricked and already made two moons, they said the last piece humans would have to find, for only with it the water would be back. Hêlel slipped away and went by the desert, by the canyons and by the mountains, three days and three nights he searched in vain, and on the fourth morning, he died in the desert.

“The slaves started crying for the water that didn't come and the cruel dragons that killed the poor Hêlel, and Kith the Sandbringer, youngest of the dragons, heard their cries and saw the body of Hêlel, alone in the desert. He brought him back to his elders and said: 'oh, mighty dragons, how the humans are pitiful, surely it would be impossible, for them to find the moon' and the dragons agreed, and they searched and searched in vain, but the off-worlder had destroyed the last piece and it could not be found again. They felt guilty for the impossible task they gave Hêlel and each dragon gave a piece of his pearl and blessed the bones of Hêlel with their tears, and they sent them to the sky and Chenini was born.”

“But the water did not come back, I imagine?” Qui-Gon asked, intrigued.

“No, there are different versions, but most converge towards Chenini blessing the slaves with the capacity to trick any master and endure the rough climate and the dragons sending sandstorms to any off-worlder to keep them from stealing their moons again. They say one day Hêlel would be reborn with a piece of moon in his heart, and he would go find the dragons and free all the slaves, and when he does the rain will fall on Tatooine again. The tapestry shows Kith the Sandbringer roaring under Chenini for Hêlel to come back.”

“A powerful piece.”

“And a sad reality for the people that still live there. I would like to do more, but Tatooine is outside of the Republic's jurisdiction and it would be too risky to organize relief missions. At least by buying art I can make small differences.”

  
  


Qui-Gon nodded with a pensive smile while Dooku sipped his tea. He already knew of her everlasting passion for legends and stories of the past, having heard the tale of Amos and Psera often enough to be intimately familiar with even its smallest details.

Jenza had spent hours telling her some of those stories, seated beside her bed in the Dooku citadel, making voices to give them life. When she was little she would raid the closets to find costumes, capes, and sticks, and tiaras to reenact her favorites. Jenza would always smile at her antics, telling her how happy she was that her precious daughter was so creative. She had performed a few times for Yan Dooku as well, and though he had never manifested the same open support as her mother, he had never expressed any frank dislike either.

When she had decided to ally herself with Khan she had researched Tatooine's mythology and found several interesting stories of clever slaves and stupid masters, proud dragons, fast Eopies and sweet Banthas. She loved it and even got him to tell her some of the most famous ones from his time, including the moons' creation tale she had just badly retold to the two older men. Khan had confessed after this one that his original name came from this story, Anakin in the old tatooinian slave language meant rain-bringer, Hêlel reborn with the moon in his heart. She found it extremely poetic and understood better now how violently he had rejected it when he had surrendered his freedom to the worse Master of them all. Bearing the name while working under Sidious would have been a grave insult, a spit on his own mother's grave, who died believing her little rain-bringer would come back one day to fulfill his destiny and free the slaves.

Her own name came from the serennian goddess Anyawana, priestess of Delta Chernaya, the great black moon, but also queen of the dead and guardian of the forests. It was a strong name for a ruler, for Anyawana was the one that was invoked to bring back spring after a tough winter. Her grandmother has been named after it and her reign had been a peaceful one, Serenno had been prosperous under her and her people had been struck with great sadness when she passed leaving her warmongering cousin and husband Gora with the ruler seat. Hers would be big shoes to fill, if Anya ever got the throne this time around.

When she got out of her musing, Qui-Gon and Dooku had resumed some small talk about the room left for culture in the Jedi order. Dooku was under the opinion that the Order tended to wash out cultural differences a bit too strongly, leaving the younglings without much background to cling to, since the Jedi had no love for heroes and preferred referring to the code exclusively. Qui-Gon did not disagree with him, but made him admit that a certain unity was key for the whole system to function, and that their lineage was the exception and not the rule.

They ended the discussion on an agreeable note and both men left for their respective dinner plans. Unsurprisingly, Dooku's included senator Palpatine, whereas Qui-Gon was meeting with Obi-Wan at Dex. They bid their goodbyes and went on their ways, leaving behind a quiet ring of bonds rekindled and friendliness in the Force.

Anya waved from the balcony as they departed then made herself a quick dinner before slouching without any grace in her favorite sofa while she dug out her comm unit from her pocket.

\----

Khan picked up right away when he saw who was calling. He had been knee-deep into a particularly important technological project and it burned his fingers to stop, but he also had been waiting for the call for days and had no intention of delaying it.

He passed a greasy hand on his hand, wiping away some sweat but also marking his skin with a rather unaesthetic black trace, and blinked at Anya. She looked a bit tired, but otherwise fine, and was apparently at home. Good.

A tiny part of him had been worried about her latest adventure. The pirate massacre left him with no particular emotions, but knowing she had been staying, even for a short time, in the middle of the Jedi temple had been nerve-wracking. What if they figured it out? What if they found out she was not completely a Light-sider? What if they decided to arrest her, stopping their plans where everything had progressed so nicely this far?

  
  


“Anya.”

She smiled. “Khan. It's nice to see you.”

His lips twitched. “Likewise,” he replied warmly. Embarrassed at the emotional display, he cleared his throat. “Anything to report?”

“Things at the Jedi temple went fine. I got out today, I think Yoda might have guessed that uncle Yan has turned, but he did not act on it if he did. I had some tea with him and Qui-Gon at home, they left not so long ago.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then continued. “You should hear about the summer program either tomorrow or the day after.”

“Good. Do you think they will monitor you?”

She frowned lightly. “Not directly, but they'll pay a closer look for sure and I might have to work with Jedi escorts on Outer Rim trips until I can get you. Probably Qui-Gon and Kenobi if they are available.”

Annoying, Obi-Wan was often too clever for his own good, and Jinn already had an interest in Anya. She would have to trade carefully. “Will it impact our summer plans?”

“I doubt it. The program is being held on Corellia, Gregor and Fod will come but they will not cause any issues, and I already have an additional ship ready there for us if needed.

“Perfect,” he said, satisfied.

“Is there anything else?”

  
  


He glanced at the other teen. She was reliable and a great planner, as always, but the incident still rubbed him the wrong way. He nearly hesitated, then caught himself with a huff of annoyance. Hesitating? Really? He was a Sith Master, he was not going to back down because his idea could offend Anya. Besides, she already proved in the past that her reactions were somewhat unpredictable, it would not be the first time she surprised him with an unexpected answer.

  
  


“I will have free time during the program, and you most likely will as well,” he started, preparing his question.

She smirked, amused. “Indeed.”

“If you are interested I can teach you hand-to-hand combat,” he glanced at her and added. “For self-defense.”

  
  


She was on the verge of saying no, her lips already in the right shape, then looked at him with a strange emotion in her eyes and nodded before ending the comm. Good. As much as she disliked fighting, being a pacifist never did anyone any good in this galaxy, and she would not always have the possibility of relying on the Force or her lightsaber. If they were to go undercover anywhere or if she was ever in a tough spot, she would need the skill. Plus there was something petty and vindictive about teaching Teräs Käsi to a Force Sensitive with Jedi training.

He sighed and put the comm unit away then stood up and got a glass of water. It felt amazing against his dry throat, a pleasure he still enjoyed months after getting his real body back. He looked at his workstation and smiled. During his time living at the temple, Obi-Wan had been appalled by the state of his room, and it was likely the posh Jedi would equally frown at the current state of his living room, a horrific mixture of stray parts, grease, oils, tools, and unfinished projects laying around the well-lit metal table and stools he used to work on most of his creations if they were not too big.

He put back the glass and arranged the training droids he was reprogramming for his personal use away from the temple with the Force to try to make the room look a bit better, then deemed it satisfying enough, though still way below Obi-Wan's standards, and sat back at his favorite stool, the right one, in front of his current obsession: a near finished slave chip scanner.

Eight years old him would have been overjoyed with the current version of it, but if he was to help significantly, he needed it more precise and easy enough to replicate with parts available on Tatooine. He had made six functional ones for now, that he would fine-tune later, and was experimenting with a different type of wiring local to the desert planet that would hopefully also help with the precision thing.

He grabbed his previously discarded hydrospanner and got back to work, loosening and tightening the inside of the rectangular device until the results showing on his plugged-in datapad showed significant improvements. He then tried it against the slave chip he had hidden in one of the training droids and smiled. Better. The device in itself was quite simple, a tiny rectangle the size of his palm with a screen on one side showing the exact emplacement and depth of the chip. It should work against most brands currently in use, and be easy enough to carry and hide for most slaves.

His plan was to go back to Tatooine when everything was ready and he had enough devices functioning at peak capacity, and give them to key people on the planet. People that would free themselves and share the technology around. People who could build a tiny debut of resistance there and slowly give others their freedom back.

People like his mother.

He had not been aware of her actions until he took the time to dive deep into his painful childhood memories, but when he did he had realized the small but significant actions his mother had taken all his life to ensure others were free. Her frequent trips after dinner to “watch the moons”, the network of slaves and free folks like Cliegg Lars, an unsuspecting farmer with a remote place that was perfect to hide people, that gravitated around her to organize seemingly unrelated escapes. He had heard of the mysterious deaths of the most gruesome masters days after she heard tales of what others were put through, but at the time he was too young and innocent to make the connection. His mother was a hero, and he had little doubt that even if Qui-Gon had found a way to free her, she would have remained on Tatooine to keep helping others.

Khan put everything down and headed to the refresher for a quick shower before going to bed. He was strangely cheerful to be working on his childhood dream, and the fact that everything else was going relatively well helped a lot. His school work was spotless, top marks especially in his engineering classes, high sim scores and all, his progression at the temple was stellar and impressed the most dubious Jedi Masters and he was actually having a lot of fun teaching the younglings. They were a lot less stuck-up than the kids he was used to back on Coruscant, and their easy admiration and friendly disposition were a blessing for his developing social skills. He had even smiled at some of them a couple of times after a particularly successful session. Lun Su-Li had told him that the kids loved him, which was probably an exaggeration, and that if it went well he would be knighted as a Knight of Shan in the coming year. Khan was looking forward to it.

His lightsaber was the one thing that did not come along as nicely as the rest, he got new, better high output diatium power cells from the temple in exchange for his work with the younglings, but the perfect emitter still evaded him. He figured it was because of the pearl and was working on several different prototypes to adjust to its unique properties.

He turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was tall and had shoulder-length wavy dark hair that now grew dark naturally after a rather painful procedure he had a couple of months into his stay on Talravin to change their color definitely. His body was muscular, a consequence of his harsh training program, and his eyes were at that time blue and shone with specks of gold, muddied with tiny gray spots around the pupils. His skin was lightly tanned from training in the temple's garden and on the Academy grounds with his fellow students, his hands scarred and callused from lightsaber practice and manual work. He saw in the others' minds that he looked good, but he couldn't see it. His body, just as his hydrospanner, was a tool, something to be adjusted until it reached its peak level of performance. It wasn't there yet.

Khan finished drying himself, got out of the refresher, and headed for bed, grabbing the pearl from his nightstand to engage in the short meditation he used to do each night before sleeping. He never entertained this practice when he was younger, fashioning lightsabers for practicality more than spirituality, but given his current trouble with the core of his new weapon, he figured he would give it a go.

It was nice overall, feeling the pearl's energy vibrate with his, sending him to nests hidden deep in the mountains, showing him beautiful binary sunsets, bloody hunts and cozy chilly nights curled up against pleasantly warm scales. Sometimes he heard the mighty roar of the dragons at sunrise, full of power and confidence, sometimes, the low purr they seemed to reserve to their own, lulling him to sleep and filling him to the brim with impressions of being safe, content, and loved.

He would never admit it even to himself, but he always liked the nights where he could hear it the best. It made his dreams pleasant and his rest rejuvenating, and usually put him in a delightful mood for the rest of the day.

That night was one of them. He got flashes of a prodding snout trying to help a youngling to their feet, of encouraging eyes, and a feeling of pride when the youth finally made it to its parent before crumbling again against its flank when he relaxed instantly, comforted by its familiar purr. Khan let itself drift in turn, heart warm and mind at ease until he woke up the next morning and got ready for class.

His first class was uneventful, but the second one, his sim class, was interrupted by an announcement by the Academy's Director, an old man with a sharp mustache and a kind smile.

  
  


“Talravin's Academy has been selected to participate in a new initiative destined to train better pilots across the Galaxy. This summer will see the first step of this project, with a month-long advanced program targeted toward our most brilliant elements. It will be held on Corellia and integrate classes and students from Talravin, Corellia, Axxila, and Serenno. Kuat and Sullust as well as other interested planets are rumored to be part of the full-scale implementation of this initiative. You will receive a detailed brochure later today on the program's contents and can volunteer by sending my secretary an HoloMail. I will personally review all candidates and send the five best to Corellia.

“I cannot stress enough how important this could be for your future career as pilots, this is a rare type of opportunity to gain a valuable and versatile skill-set while fostering strong bonds with other planets. You will behave as a true representative of Talravin, and I expect to hear delighted remarks from all the people involved about how professional, gifted and goodhearted my students were. I hope to receive many applications, now I'll leave you to your class.”

  
  


Of course, as soon as he left the chatter began, soon becoming unbearable. Everyone was talking about the announcement and making predictions about who would be selected. He caught a couple of envious glances and resisted rolling his eyes. It was evident he was going to go, his record was stellar and his backstory just sobby enough to move the Director into giving him a spot. The poor orphan fighting so hard for his dream was sure to be a fantastic candidate for something so political. Plus Anya basically designed the whole thing with him in mind, which surely would help too. He wrote a polite but brief HoloMail indicating he wanted in before even receiving the brochure and went back to his simulator, scoring heaps above everyone else, as usual.

Khan was actually looking forward to the program. Despite his experience in the field, he found that learning the advanced theory behind his innate sense of flying and mechanics was quite interesting and refined greatly his already great skills in multiple domains. Enriching this with additional knowledge from other planets, especially Corellia, whose pilots and ships were highly valued in the galaxy, even under the Empire, was a very sweet way of spending his time. Anya's regular presence and the progress of their personal projects was an added bonus, and he could not deny the little spark of excitement he felt at the idea of seeing her in person again.

With their ongoing collaboration came a sense of familiarity and belonging that he didn't recall feeling for a very long time, the type of partnership he strove to have with Obi-Wan when he was younger without ever quite achieving it before their Clone Wars era, and that he thought he had with Padme before realizing later on that she never truly saw him that way.

“ _Ani, you'll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”_

He flinched at the memory. With age, experience, and the ungodly amount of time he spent ruminating about his past, he now saw how this statement had stayed true, even after their wedding. Padme had been his wife, but not his partner or even his friend, despite the love they shared. She never really listened to his opinions when they didn't fit with her personal views and had an annoying habit of going against what he asked of her if she did not see his point.

“ _Please, wait for me.”_

“ _I will.”_

Outside of everything else that went terribly wrong on this horrendous series of events that made him into Vader, seeing Padme on Mustafar had been an additional confirmation of this. When she thought she knew better, she didn't listen, even when his request came from the need to protect her. She saw him as reckless, charming but not particularly smart nor wise, and she acted accordingly.

Brows furrowed, he chastised himself for being so unfair to her. In all honesty, she hadn't been wrong to do so.

Still, after so many years of having to follow Watto's, then Obi-Wan's, then Palpatine's orders without being able to decide much of anything for himself, Anya's respect for his opinions and plans was a breath of fresh air. When she questioned him it wasn't to point out how stupid he was or to deliver some sort of sick punishment, but because she wanted to ensure their shared success. She was a planner, a good one, and valued his experience and knowledge as much as hers when plotting their next moves. He liked that, this idea of being her equal and being able to discuss without feeling judged or belittled because they didn't share the same point of view.

Obi-Wan had always been more of a father figure and was never particularly keen on truly listening to him, which was probably one of the main causes of their estrangement throughout the years, even outside of Palpatine's little ploys. Like Padme, he meant well, he was able to see it now, but it still created a rift between them, until he figured it was best to tell him absolutely nothing to avoid conflict and eventually decided to trust Sidious over him. Admittedly, not his best decision.

He furrowed his brows and realized he trusted Anya. Less than he had trusted Obi-Wan at the time, or Sidious, and certainly less than Padme, but he trusted her. They shared a dream for the future and the grim reality of a common past as Palpatine's slaves. He had told her more about his life than he ever told anyone, and he knew she did the same. The pure truth, the lack of secrets between them was extremely relaxing.

Khan rearranged his hair while dismissing the thoughts. He was getting sentimental, mushy. Anya was a nice person, and he would have liked knowing her in his first life, before they both got harmed so harshly by their respective choices, but still, dwelling on it was not going to make their plans come to fruition sooner.

  
  


He received confirmation from the Director that he was selected for the program two days later during a public announcement at lunch break. To his utter dismay, Jang had been selected too, which definitely dampened his initial enthusiasm for his summer plans. The jerk was extremely proud of himself, apparently, he was somehow related to the talravinian senator and pulled some strings to get in. Nepotism. Disgusting.

The other three he did not know by name, they were students from the graduating promotion, the one above him, but Jang knew at least one of them because he started immediately to share with the entire cafeteria how the summer program was going to be amazing and how satisfied he was that at least one of his friends got in, and not just charity cases.

Khan did not particularly like being called a charity case, but let it flow past him as he did with the rest of Jang's insults. He would have ample time later this evening to destroy a couple of training droids while thinking of his annoying face.

On the brighter side, at least now he was absolutely sure he was going to the program, and Alys had apparently decided in turn to stop pestering him to go with her and her friends on her amazing planned summer break in the mountains.

On the even brighter side, he had a breakthrough the following evening on his lightsaber.

He had decided to switch from the slave chip scanners to the emitter project that evening because he had a feeling he should, and he was proven right. One of his emitter prototypes was literally calling his name and he worked on it tirelessly until the adjusted components fit perfectly together. It was not his prettiest job and he already had another alloy in mind to lighten the entire thing and make it more refined, but as he assembled the blade again, expecting a certain failure, as usual, he was surprised by the transient apparition of a beautiful laser blade.

It vanished after a few seconds, the emitter completely melted by the blade's power, but it was clear progress, and the rich color spoke to him. It gave a warm, reddish, deep chocolate glow he had never seen before, the dark brown hue contrasting pleasantly with the Beskar hilt.

He loved it instantly.

He took apart the hilt again, removing the faulty component, and instantly started drafting a new prototype for the emitter, thinking about ways to allow it to sustain the apparent power of the blade. He had been worried that the pearl did not hold enough power to emit a blade, but apparently, it was the opposite, the pearl was too powerful for regular settings to work, it required more resistant materials. He was happy for his wise choice of hilt, the Beskar would shield him well from the blade power once he got it to work properly.

Satisfied with his progress, he ordered some parts on the HoloNet then rose, made some Tzai, and grabbed his latest scanner. By the time the parts for his lightsaber came, he hoped to have the scanner project completed, and would head to Tatooine sometime during the two months left before the summer program to deliver them. Anya had been very insistent with the date, she thought the summer program would cast a light on him that would make any outer rim trip look instantly suspicious, and considering they had only a year left before the legendary Boonta Eve Race won by Anakin, it would be risky to wait until he was out of the spotlight again.

He sipped his Tzai, feeling a spark of joy at the familiar taste, then got back to work.

\----

Anya smiled politely as the now-retired senator for Serenno handed her the scepter and embellished serennian code, standing stiffly beside the old man and her uncle in the throne room of Serenno's citadel. She was wearing a traditional black ruling cloak over a simple high collared black dress and a sleek platinum tiara assorted with the cloak's attaches and linking chain. The old man smiled in turn, satisfied with her decorum, and they proceeded with the ceremony, him giving his parting vows while she took her first ones. She swore to protect Serenno's interests, to represent her planet with dignity and humility, and to be the voice of her people in the Senate. They then sealed their vows by letting their palms bleed a few drops on the wooden chalice all serennian high dignitaries used to swear their oaths before it was brought back in the transparisteel enclave it was usually kept in outside of ceremonies.

Yan Dooku was happy.

She could feel the waves of satisfaction and sheer pride he emitted through the Force, looking at his niece as she committed herself fully to her planet, and it filled her with joy. She handed back the serennian code and scepter to aides to put back at their respective spots behind the throne and they all exited the room. The previous senator left them not too long after, congratulating her again on her new position and repeating his good wishes, then Dooku senior motioned for her to follow him.

He took her on a walk in the citadel's garden, staying silent at first until they got to what she knew to be his favorite spot, a tiny enclave well hidden from the citadel's main buildings, decorated with a beautiful fountain and surrounded by serennian roses. He stopped and looked at the fountain for quite some time before speaking.

  
  


“I used to met your mother here, when our meetings were still clandestine and forbidden both by her family and the Jedi order,” he said, seemingly deep in thought.

  
  


She kind of knew about it, Jenza told her many stories involving her uncle when she was younger, they used to be her favorites. What was his point? She could feel a lot of emotions coming from him but nothing she could pinpoint.

  
  


“You look more like her every day. She would have been very proud of the woman you are becoming, Anya.”

  
  


Anya felt tears rising, making her eyes shine unnaturally before she calmed herself. Her mother would be here with them if Yan Dooku hadn't ordered Ventress to murder her to keep his secrets quiet. She knew too much about his dark side, and she paid dearly for it. He had no right to bring her up, even if she was not supposed to know of his deeds! She swallowed and forced herself to smile through the pain.

  
  


“Thank you, uncle Yan, I wished she could be there with us,” Anya replied through clenched teeth, feeling the lump in her throat growing with each word.

“Me too, Anya,” he sighed. “Me too.”

  
  


The blatant lie left a bitter taste in her mouth and simmering anger in her stomach. Yan Dooku was complicated, this she understood way before she traveled back in time, but even if he still held feelings for Jenza and felt a modicum amount of guilt for commanding her assassination, speaking about her like that was just bad taste at best.

  
  


“I... had to make some tough choices in the past, some concerning Jenza, things I regret every day. I wanted to tell you what I never had the courage to tell her.” He walked closer to her, oblivious to her frozen state as she took in the obvious understatement he made about her mother, basically admitting to killing her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his torso. “No matter what happens next, I'll always love you. You're the daughter I never had, and even if we disagree or oppose later on, this will never change.”

  
  


Anya felt her tears spill out as she hugged the man back, letting the ominous words dig deep into her heart. It felt like a farewell, like this day marked the end of their relationship as she knew it. Did something happen? Or did he realize that with her in such a prominent position she was bound to attract Palpatine's attention and eventually his ire? Was he already aware that he was going to have to kill his best friend a few months from now, or was the memory of his dear sister's death enough to prompt this confession?

  
  


“I'll always love you too, uncle Yan.”

  
  


And despite all the conflicting feelings she had regarding the complicated man that was Yan Dooku, her words rang true.

\----

“Familiar with Senator Dooku, you are,” Yoda stated, looking calmly at Qui-Gon Jinn.

  
  


They were taking a walk down the main hallways, Yoda going to a Council meeting, Qui-Gon heading down the training ground for his morning practice. It had been a habit once, that he had shared with his Master. Each of their days, even after Qui-Gon was knighted and got his own Padawan, and Dooku took a position on the Council, started with training. It usually included physical uses of the Force, general fighting skills, and lightsaber combat, and was followed by half an hour of meditation. They then took a mandatory shower and regrouped for tea with sugary treats while they discussed the current events agitating the temple.

His heart clenched. He missed it. He missed him. It was even more blatantly obvious now that he had seen the man again, after a couple of years of complete silence. Sifo-Dyas still met with Dooku regularly, and he had gotten some news from Anya, but it wasn't the same as seeing the man for himself.

He wondered if Yoda thought about his Padawan sometimes, if he regretted his departure like Qui-Gon did, or if he simply believed it to be the will of the Force and didn't feel strongly about his absence at all. Both, perhaps.

  
  


“I am,” he replied with a nod.

“Grounded, your Padawan is, hm?”

  
  


He was. After a frustrating stunt Anya pulled on him during a brief relief mission on Christophsis shortly before her ascension to her current Senator position, Obi-Wan had been anxious to prove himself. As a result, he had nearly gotten himself killed by refusing to call him for help during a nasty fight with the bounty hunters that had abducted the princess of Naator. They had recovered the grateful princess, captive in a mountain prison and hours away from freezing to death, and the bounty hunters had been dealt with, but his Padawan's rashness had displeased the Council just as much at it had displeased him, and he had been put on Archive duty for three months to give him time to reconnect himself with the Jedi tenets.

He had trouble seeing the connection Yoda made between the two questions, however.

  
  


“He is.”

“Good, good. A mission, the Council has for you. Alone, you'll go.”

  
  


The Grand Master explained that Master Eeth Koth usually went every couple of years to Talravin and Corellia to visit the other Jedi that lived there, but that since his appointment on the Council it had been quite hard for him to uphold his commitment. Yoda had suggested Qui-Gon's name when the matter was brought up during the last Council session, knowing he wasn't currently on any mission, and the Council had agreed. Since the timing was auspicious, he also wanted him to use the trip to Corellia to report on the Galactic Flight Program Anya had organized and show the senators and organizers that the Jedi approved of an initiative bringing more collaboration in the galaxy.

Qui-Gon wasn't displeased. He hadn't seen his friend Su-Li since his last trip on Tython with Obi-Wan a couple of years ago, and he maintained a regular correspondence with Nejaa, a Green Jedi that he had previously collaborated with on a rather long mission on Corellia. The thought of seeing them both brought warmth to his heart. He was also curious about Anya's program. She had been working extremely hard to make it happen, and from what she had told him about it it really seemed to be a great initiative.

Was Yoda giving him a vacation? It certainly felt like it.

  
  


They parted ways in front of the turbolifts, Yoda going up while Qui-Gon was going down, and he was about to enter the lift when Yoda stopped him, ears lowered slightly in what he knew was concern. “Wary, you should be, Qui-Gon, of your former Master. Darkness, I see coming his way.”

  
  


The lift closed, leaving his lips open in a question he would never ask. What had prompted Yoda to say anything now? What did it even mean?

Qui-Gon sighed, letting his head rest for a moment against the cool metal of the lift. He suspected it was linked to Yoda's brief encounter with Dooku when he came to pick up Anya at the temple, but he had no idea why it would come up now of all times. He was worried too, of course, it was hard to be Force-sensitive in a galaxy that mostly wasn't without any sort of support system. It was lonely, too. There was a reason they tended to cross paths with similarly gifted beings, why most Jedi resided in the Coruscant temple and weren't scattered all over the galaxy. They needed each other. Solitude often led Jedi off their paths, and Dooku despite all of his experience and talent wasn't fully protected from its effects.

He straightened, resolved, and decided to send him a HoloMail after his training session. Maybe they could see each other again when Qui-Gon would be back on Coruscant?

\----

Khan sighed with familiar distaste when he took his first breath of hot, sandy Tatooine air.

Talravin's border control was a kriffing joke, and he had no trouble getting out of there and on the road to Tatooine, now it was just a question of where to start. Shmi would be ideal, but he had no idea where she was during the day and he didn't want to compromise her by looking too intently for her. Cliegg Lars would be another option, but he had no prior contact with him and he knew from experience the man could be tough on strangers. Outside of them, he sadly had zero clues who was involved in their little “free Tatooine” initiative.

He had landed on Mos Espa's shitty spaceport and was about to hit the cantina for some prime gossip and hopefully figure out where to go from there when a small voice and a sunny smile halted his steps.

  
  


“Mr. Khan, you came back!”

  
  


That was karmic retribution for using the Force to trip Jang at the cafeteria after a particularly insufferable morning a couple of days ago, he was sure of it. The tall teenager turned his red Beskar mask towards the half-pint-sized child version of him and tried to convey some kind of smile through the Force. It came out awkward as hell and he saw tiny Anakin shiver, but he did not decide to run away from him, which he counted as a victory.

  
  


“Anakin, it is nice to see you again.”

  
  


The kid smiled even brighter and started babbling wildly about the last Boonta Eve Race and the pod he entered and how next year he was totally going to win because his pod was the best and racing against cheaters was so unfair and he was sure Sebulba did something to his repulsors.

Khan nodded and added a few comments as they walked towards Mos Espa's best cantina, the other one he remembered was serving literal Bantha piss mixed with sand and called the cocktail “the off-worlder”, which told everything anyone needed to know about their inclusivity.

Anakin left him at the door with narrowed eyes and a pout he could not quite place. He was probably suspicious of his reasons for landing on Tatooine just to get wasted, especially considering the mask, and perhaps a tad.... disappointed?

  
  


“Would you come for dinner later?” the kid asked tentatively. Oh. He wanted to spend time with him. How peculiar.

“Will your mother agree?” he replied, trying his hardest to be a responsible adult.

Ani rubbed his chin, spreading black grime there. “I guess?”

Khan sighed, the sound not picked up by the vocoder. “I'll stay here a couple of hours.”

“I'll ask her and come back!” the kid beamed. “See you later Mr. Khan.”

  
  


He nodded, both mortified and delighted as Anakin ran off to whatever he was actually supposed to do at this time of the day instead of gazing longingly at spaceships.

It would make it easier to engage his mother into a conversation on freeing slaves and give her some of the scanners, but, really? Dinner at home? This was going to require at least twelve hours of intense meditation just to tame the wild, raw and terrifying feelings it would bring him. If his mother made Tzai, there was an 80% chance of him crying.

He made his way into the cantina, selecting a stool at the bar not too far from the main patrons but sufficiently secluded to avoid antagonizing drunks just by breathing. Once seated he ordered some Jawa juice, paid, and then twirled his straw into the murky sandy liquid until he heard something of interest.

Cantina sucked. He did not particularly enjoy them when he was a Jedi, nor when he was Vader, and that opinion did not change. It didn't help that the Mos Espa cantina was one of the dirtiest, smelliest congregation of low-lives the galaxy had to offer. Still, after listening to mildly interesting chatter about mistresses, the rising price of pallies, and Jabba's latest taxes on water, he caught a snippet of conversation from two unsuspecting men hidden in a discreet booth.

They were mentioning an operation this very night to free five slaves from a wealthy trader that he knew by name as being Sebulba's sponsor on podraces. They guessed he always put the chips in the right forearm of his slaves by sheer habits and to avoid destroying them completely if the bomb went off, and were planning on some savage butchery to remove them.

Half of that he gathered from their mind, they, of course, could not speak this freely, even inside the shady bar.

They ended up leaving shortly before Anakin's return and he committed their signature to memory to be able to find them later. Maybe his scanners could help avoid the gory surgery, and with his presence, the escape will have a lot more chance of actually succeeding.

He had, however, a much more daunting task waiting for him before he could go on his little adventure.

Khan met the child in front of the cantina. He was looking slightly frustrated, but overall happy to see him. He probably got a reprimand of some sort, either from Watto for slacking, from his mother because he invited a near stranger for dinner, or both.

  
  


“Mr. Khan, mom said it's okay, come!”

  
  


He followed him across the narrow streets, not missing the suspicious glances he received. People knew Anakin quite well, he had been in the spotlight very recently with the last Boonta Eve race, and the tall mandalorian warrior dressed entirely in black looked definitely out of place on Tatooine. Not that he had any desire for integration, anyway. They spat after him, the gravest insult on the planet for it was considered a waste of water, and he heard them speculate on the child's fate, already mourning him.

Khan rolled his eyes beneath his mask at their dramatic attitude and felt his dread rise, seizing his chest as they got closer to the house he lived in during his youth. Each step felt like it sent a spike of pure pain in his frantically beating heart, and when he swallowed his throat felt heavy and constricted. Kriff that was going to be hard!

Shmi Skywalker was waiting for them in front of her door, standing tall, arms crossed on her chest. While not completely distrustful she was uncomfortable with the situation and there was a fierce glint of protectiveness in her eyes as she nearly pushed Anakin behind her when he came close enough. Good, Khan was better at dealing with hostility than affection, even if it was from his own mother.

  
  


He nodded towards her. “Mrs. Skywalker.”

“Mr. Khan.” She smiled uneasily, pressing her son closer to her side. “Ani told me you crossed path at the spaceport.”

“We did.”

Shmi gestured towards the door. “Come inside.”

  
  


It looked exactly as it did in his memories, and the food smelled divine. He recognized some dustcrepes and nausages, ahrisa balls, and pallies. He hadn't had many of these foods in decades, probably since he left Tatooine the first time, despite enjoying them. As Obi-Wan's Padawan, he had wanted to leave behind all traces of his Outer Rim's upbringing, feeling ashamed of his love for dustcrepes and his awful accent. The others at the temple had not been particularly nice about it either, excluding him rather harshly and mocking his unusual childhood, calling him the slave child behind his back. Assholes.

  
  


“Do you want me to help with anything?” he asked, standing awkwardly in the dining area.

She shook her head, tense. “It should all be ready soon. Ani why don't you show Mr. Khan your droid while I set the table?”

  
  


Strange. He would personally not let his eight years old alone in a room with an off-worlder, maybe it was some kind of test?

He looked at Shmi, she smiled briefly, still seeming a tad distressed at the situation, but gestured toward the corridor Anakin had disappeared to. He stilled for a moment before walking towards the sleeping quarters. She knew. She knew she had no chance at fighting him and protect her son if he was here for nefarious reasons, and wanted to seem accommodating until she learned more about his intentions. He nearly shivered and felt his heart clench. It hurt, bad, to know that he was scaring Shmi.

Anakin thankfully shared no such fears, and welcomed him to his small workshop with a beaming smile that lit up the room and warmed him in ways he hadn't know were achievable before Luke himself. He pointed to a clearly unfinished C3PO with a tiny hand already covered in dark oil and grime from his daily tinkering at Watto's.

  
  


“- This is Threepio, I'm re-building him to help mom around the house, but I can't find how to wire his central processor to his communicator module without frying his verbobrain.”

  
  


Khan knelt next to him, pensive. In the original timeline, he had to wait until a particularly useful component fell into the unknowing hands of Watto, a couple of months after this day probably. Lucky for this Anakin, Khan had decades of experience working on various types of droids, ships, and mechanical projects, and a formal education in engineering and mechanics, which also helped. He grabbed a few tools lying around and unplugged the verbobrain from the system before handing it to Anakin.

  
  


“I think if you plate the verbobrain and install an input dampener in between it and the processor you might be able to go around it. Wouldn't function at 100% though, not without a-”

“Proper circuit matrix processor, yeah I hope I'll be able to find one, many thanks Mr. Khan!”

He smiled behind his mask. “Do you have welding tools here?”

The kid pouted. “Not for the plating, but we can install the input dampener, I should have one... here!”

  
  


They worked on the upgrade for the next hour, Shmi either far less ready for dinner than she made it out to be or unwilling to disturb their bonding time. He felt her presence near the door checking on them a couple of times, but apparently Anakin's delighted exclamations and their tech-related banter were reassuring enough to leave them be.

It actually felt really nice, if Khan was honest with himself, to be crouched on this tiny room covered in droid fluids working on a project with someone with the same passion for the craft, even if it was the younger version of himself. His heart twinged a couple of times when he wondered what it would have been like to do this with his son, with Luke, but it was just an impossible want and he was used to those, he buried it deep within himself with the rest of his wishes for a more pleasant past and let the thought go. If everything went well this time, perhaps this Anakin would be able to do this with his own son, and that would be enough. It needed to be.

When Shmi finally came to tell them that dinner was ready, the dampener was in place, his hands were as dirty as Anakin's and the little boy was shining like a tiny sun in the Force with pure glee. They both washed their hands in the sonic sink after getting a reprimanding look from the older woman then sat at the table. Khan then realized something he had not taken into account before.

He was going to have to remove his mask if he wanted to have a chance to taste Shmi's cuisine.

Anya was probably not going to like it. At all. The mask was supposed to stay on during all of his little out-of-character stunts to protect his current cover of a nice, if aloof, orphan with a tragic backstory studying diligently on Talravin. It was supposed to be a second identity, one he could use once they would both be on Coruscant to carry out their little side schemes without risking getting unwanted attention from Sidious or the Order. Removing it in front of Shmi and Anakin, who were going to meet Qui-Gon next year and could perhaps inadvertently reveal who was hiding behind the mask to the Jedi was a major risk.

Still, he needed Shmi to be his ally, and that would be much easier for her to trust him if she saw his face. As for Anakin, well, he was young, he would probably forget and with him at the temple, their chances of crossing path would be small at best. It was a risk worth taking.

Sending a small apologetic thought to the bond he shared with the young Countess, one she would either not hear or not understand anyway, he pulled back his hood and removed the mask, putting it on the vacant chair next to him. Shmi was polite enough to stifle a gasp, even if he could sense her surprise and relief through the Force, but Anakin had no such qualms.

  
  


“You're young,” he said, brows furrowed in a confused expression.

Khan smirked, amused, and tried to arrange his hair as best as he could. The mask was not kind on his mane, and he would probably have to spend an ungodly amount of time washing, conditioning and brushing his hair for it if he wanted his dark locks to be looking adequate for classes. Aesthetics. Not his main concern, but appearances were important on Talravin, and not caring would get him more trouble than it was worth. “I am. Just call me Khan, the 'mister' feels strange.”

  
  


Anakin smiled brightly and nodded before grabbing a dustcrepe and wrapping it around a nausage. Shmi served them all a cup of Bantha milk before sitting herself. As he predicted, everything tasted amazing, the strong, spicy food delighting his palate. How could he deprive himself of this for all this time? If she was willing to share, he would definitely have to learn how to cook at least a few of these dishes. From his past, he only remembered the Tzai recipe that ran in her family. It was traditional to pass this on to the next generation, and Shmi had taught him right before he left Tatooine, so he could teach it to his own children later on. He never did.

  
  


“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Skywalker, it's very good,” he told her in a subdued voice, trying to distract himself from his recurring thoughts on his failed experience as a parent.

“Consider it a thank you for helping Ani with this droid and think nothing of it, Khan,” she replied warmly. “If it is not indiscreet what are you doing on Tatooine?”

His eyes stung and his heart seized in pain, because she didn't know who she was to him, because she never would, but he managed to keep his face relatively neutral. “Visiting, same as last time.”

Anakin snorted and Khan narrowed his eyes at him, wondering when he had unlearned how to make those kinds of offending sounds. Probably Obi-Wan. “Visiting Tatooine? There is nothing to visit on this dust-ball.”

He cleared his throat, reining himself in, and pushed through his constricted throat. “My... birth family came from Tatooine.”

  
  


Both Shmi and Anakin fell silent after that, and Khan knew they hadn't missed the implications of what he said. A Master would never let his kid out of his sight, they mattered too much, even to the cruelest of them. Only a slave would send a baby away, hiding his birth to try and get him a better life.

He saw Shmi's eyes taking in his features with a renewed interest, trying to guess if she knew from where he got his most striking features, blue eyes and dark hair from. She pinched her lips and he saw in her expression that she drew the same conclusion many had drawn about him years earlier when rumors of his slave past came to light at the temple. Pleasure slaves were the only beings beautiful enough to produce such a child.

“ _Your mom is a slave whore Skywalker! Get on your knees like her.”_

This one in particular he had no regret decapitating during the Purge. Khan was sure his eyes glinted silver and gold at the memory, but it was not the time to be reminiscing of this fool. He drowned the thought with a sip of Bantha milk and a look at his mother's compassionate smile.

Anakin was not yet old enough to get everything going on, but he caught on to the subdued atmosphere pretty fast and did not object when Shmi told him he should go and see if Kitser was also finished with dinner and available to play. He bid him goodbye with a nice smile and thanked him again for the help with the droid before running off.

  
  


Khan was helping with the dishes despite Shmi's protest when she went on the offensive. “You are not on Tatooine just for visiting, are you Khan?” she asked, voice serene but eyes sharp.

“What make you say that?” he replied, pretending to be very engrossed in washing the plate he was holding.

“Friends of friends who saw you at the cantina all afternoon.” She raised a brow. “I found it strange to spend so much time drinking when one wants to learn more about a planet.”

He smiled. “You seem to have many friends, Mrs. Skywalker.”

“Should I consider you one of them?”

  
  


The air got heavier with her question, and he felt the many layers of meanings behind it without fully understanding them. Khan was not gifted with a mind made for intrigue and word games, this was more Anya's thing, and he knew he would not have a better opportunity than now.

Sighing, he put the plate on the counter and dug one of the scanners out of his pocket, then handed it to Shmi. She furrowed her brows, inquisitive.

  
  


“I told the truth earlier, my family is from Tatooine,” Khan explained, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “When I came here the first time I realized what they must have been through.”

“Slavery,” she whispered, closing her eyes in a sorrowful expression.

“I am going to a great Academy, on a Core world, because of their sacrifice. Meeting Anakin and realizing he would never get this kind of chance-” he clenched his jaw as a pang of emotion seized his heart, eyes lowered in guilt at his lie. “It hurt.”

She turned it on and gasped when it beeped near her arm. “Is this what I think it is?”

“It is. I tested it extensively before coming back, I wanted to be sure I wasn't giving anyone false hopes.”

“Why would you give it to me?” she asked, eyes full of emotions.

He pulled out the other ones, and she could not restrain a sharp intake of breath at the sight. “I made several. You seemed like a good person, Mrs. Skywalker, and one with many friends. I wanted to make sure you and Anakin had a choice.”

Shmi teared up at that and Khan felt his heart clench painfully. She pulled herself together very quickly, crying was a waste on Tatooine, one she never indulged in, and nodded with a new fire in her eyes. “What are you going to do with the others?”

“If you want me to, I can leave them to you to distribute, but it will be very dangerous. Otherwise, I heard of an operation tonight, maybe I could help.”

She shook her head with a grim look. “Don't.”

“Why?”

Shmi sighed. “There is no operation tonight, they spoke a bit too much in the cantina, and they were heard.”

  
  


She did not have to say what occurred for Khan to understand. He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his rising anger and watched silently as Shmi grabbed an old dishcloth and wrapped it reverently around his scanners before disappearing in the living quarters a few seconds to put them away, probably in that hole under her sleeping cot he had been forbidden from ever touching as a child.

When she came back her expression was resolute.

  
  


“I'll make sure they end up in the right place, Khan. Thank you for your trust,” she said, smiling softly.

He smiled back. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Skywalker. I know how much risk this represents.”

“I've been doing this for a while, now. You are giving us hope, Khan, not risks.”

  
  


She asked if there was anything he needed, after that, and when Khan got back on his ship at dusk, his pocket held no more scanners but a much more valuable treasure: an interesting collection of flimsi notes with recipes for his favorites dishes from Tatooine, written by the hand of his mother. It was incredible to have something she touched, something she created always with him. He couldn't wait to try them out, he had missed her cooking so, so much, and it felt like something connecting them, despite the fact they lived light-years away from each other, despite the fact that she didn't know how important she was to him.

In his mind, their farewell greetings resonated.

  
  


“May Chenini bless you, Khan.”

  
  


He had barely whispered the rest of the formula, throat constricted and voice so low he wondered if she even heard him. “May she grant all your wishes, Mrs. Skywalker.”

  
  


  
  



End file.
